


and one man in his time plays many parts

by orphan_account



Series: et tu, brute? [2]
Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: F/M, Fake AH Crew, GTA AU, Gen, M/M, jack n geoff only implied rip sorry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-01
Updated: 2015-03-27
Packaged: 2018-02-23 14:04:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 48,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2550242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If you prick us, do we not bleed? if you tickle us, do we not laugh? if you poison us, do we not die? and if you wrong us, shall we not revenge?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. some rise by sin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Florence Accounting was not an accounting company. It had only one actual accountant that worked for the company, and she did both the companies accounting and the accounting of one small business in Miami to make it look legitimate.

The door banged loudly behind Ryan as he stumbled into the thickly hot night of Atlanta. Music pumped from the club he had just left and he shoved a hand in his pocket and yanked out a small carton of cigarettes. He only stuck it in his mouth and didn’t light it yet, though. It had been a month since he had gotten off the job in Detroit and he was still having trouble integrating back into normal life. Hearing people say _Ryan_ when referring to him was a small shock that he had to get back to responding to. He’d been Wesley for two years for the job, and that kind of conditioning sticks with you.

The walk back towards his apartment was quiet and uneventful, the friends he had left back at the club probably hadn’t noticed him gone so it would be a few more hours before they either called or poured back in his door. They always did this whenever he got back from a job. None of them knew what his job was, he was pretty sure they thought he worked in the army. All they knew was he had long spans of time out of town and they had to put all of their energy into hanging out with him before he disappeared again.

It was hard relating to the other men. All of them had stayed in Georgia all their lives and had settled down with wives and had some kids. Ryan had ended up in advanced gang infiltration, high grade weapons, and hand-to-hand combat. Ryan had ended up outside of Georgia more than inside it. He was only in his late 20s; he didn’t have much to his name besides a nice apartment in Atlanta and a bank account perpetually full.

He’d always wander back into town after finishing up a job and find himself on the same doorstep. Blood was thicker than water, and he looked to his lifelong friends before he even considered his blood relatives. Besides, friends didn’t prod him as much about his life choices.

“Ryan! It’s so good to see you, man,” Aaron would clap his shoulder and guide him into the house every time he would show up after a job.

“Ever gonna tell us what that mystery job of yours is?” Aaron’s wife Mary would ask with one arm holding a kid and the other sliding around Ryan to pull him into a half-hug. He would kiss her cheek and give her a smile and a wink. Aaron would whip out his phone and dial some of their other friends and then sit Ryan down in a chair and flick on the TV to some mindless station that they could use as background noise.

These two were Ryan’s favorites. Aaron and Mary had married while Ryan was in Salt Lake City on a job, he still hadn’t lived down missing that wedding, and they had popped out a new kid almost every time he got back. He was pretty sure they were under the impression he was some sort of Navy Seal because they never questioned him, just let him sit with them and make small talk.

That’s why he liked them, they didn’t make him think too hard or too long and let him just relax. Let him be himself.

 

Ryan stopped and turned into an alleyway to light his cigarette. One of his few vices, he’d picked it up while on his Raleigh job. His friends would complain that he smelled like smoke and that his lungs were going to be destroyed and he’d die of lung cancer, little did they know he expected to be taken out before he turned the big four-oh.

The Detroit job was the longest one he had been on in a while, and it was still jarring to go from that to this. Atlanta was a nice city, Ryan was born in a small-town just outside of it and he had always come in to get a finer, less rural taste of life. The chill of Detroit contrasting the heat of Atlanta. The slow chug of Detroit contrasting the beat of Atlanta. Marco had promised this to be the downswing of his work. Had told him to relax because he was being put on easier jobs to prepare him for his contract release.

Florence Accounting was not an accounting company. It had only one actual accountant that worked for the company, and she did both the companies accounting and the accounting of one small business in Miami to make it look legitimate. Otherwise, Marco ran the business that happened in the back.

Ryan had stumbled onto the job after quitting the Police Academy. They had taken him in trained him more intensively. Sent him out on the road. Their work wasn’t for-hire; usually they just deployed an agent to wherever they felt needed it most. Typically, all their profits came from that. Very few agents knew each other, it was just better if one of them went rogue to not know every other agent. Most agents would be on the job for a few months or a few years, enough to gather inside information and work their way through the ranks. Once they had enough evidence they would turn it over to Marco, who then would leave a rather huge anonymous tip to the local police force or the Justice Department.

Ryan was one of the longest agents they’ve ever had and his resume of destroying gangs was large enough that new initiates sometimes would be tasked with tagging along on his missions. Each time he changed his everything, new name, new hair, new style, new backstory. He never considered the people he was tasked to become close to as friends, if he did he would never be able to inevitably stab them in the back. He wasn’t a cop. He didn’t have to abide by the same rules. Killing was generally accepted, though he tried to not do it so much. He was worse when he was younger. Sometimes he got nightmares about it; mostly he was numb to it.

Smashing the cigarette under his toe, Ryan opened the door to his apartment complex. It was a quaint little place, easy to pay for and low maintenance. The walls were a bright blue and the stairs were rickety. His apartment was on the fourth floor and at the end of the hallway on the left side. Carpet was stained, but meant to be a reddish color. He clomped up the stairs to the fourth floor and dug his key out, it was time for him to fucking just rest and think. Stepping into the apartment, you are stepping into the living room. The couch was directly in front of the door, TV in front of it.

To the left is a small dining area, nothing is there. To the right is a small kitchen squished into the corner. Walking past the couch, you either kept going to the kitchen or turned into the hallway. Down the hall it curves into a bulb with three doors. One is the bathroom, another is the bedroom, and the next is another bedroom. The main bedroom had a queen sized bed with simple blue sheets and not much else; the guest bedroom just had a mattress on the floor with some blankets. Carpet was put all through; it was a beige color to fit with the white walls.

The first thing that caught Ryan’s eye was the envelope on kitchen counter, it was thick and just had his name scrawled across it in heavy black ink. These were never good; it just meant you were getting sent out again. So soon? Ryan felt an uneasiness creep into his stomach as he kicked the door shut and walked to pick up the envelope. Ripping it open at the top he just dumped the contents out onto the  counter and pushed them around to try and find a note. Usually, he would get a call before he found the envelope. If there was no call, then there was a note in the envelope. The note he found was short and sweet.

“ _Pack your bags! We have a big job for you in Los Santos. Crime capital of the States and notoriously gang-ridden. Sorry for giving you this already. This is your last mission though, the group you’re with is sloppy and inefficient. Just get in and get the bare minimum and get out, OK? The plane ticket is for tomorrow morning. Get studying!”_

This was terrible for Ryan. He didn’t want to go to Los Santos, it was awful there. Good weather, shitty cops, big gangs, lots of guns, lots of drugs. That city was a damn death sentence. One of the guys there had been there for a stunning _5 years and counting_! Ryan would not get stuck like that. Taking deep breaths in through his nose and out through his mouth, Ryan pushed the pictures and files around to order them so he could start reading. If the decision was already made, what could he do? Just get through it and get it done quickly.

No problem.

 

Los Santos was a California coast city close to the border; it had a staggeringly high crime rate and a staggeringly useless police force. Gangs controlled humongous swaths of the city with an iron fist, the police in their pockets. It’s been thriving on a 70s Miami-esque cocaine fever drug lust since the 1990s and the gangs have only gotten larger and more violent. Major players in the city were usually mysterious and shrouded in kicked up dust from their contacts in the police.

Very few went by their given names and very few were directly involved in things. The city was never steady, they went through large leaders and large gangs like used coats. For a long time in the early 2000s it just shifted between three gangs with small players carving out a corner or two here and there. The breakdown of those three large gangs set the city in the current trajectory of shifting territory lines and the fight to spread wings in a heavily populated gang area. Grimy, it had a huge poverty gap and a huge wage gap. That’s why so many people turned to gangs.

The gang Ryan was tasked with was the “Fake AH Crew.” A dumb name, Ryan would have laughed if someone said it out loud, but these guys were serious. The team consisted of five people, all with little to no information on their names. A lot of the files were rumors or whispers from the other gangs. A peculiar thing about this group was how they used their full real names. It separated them, but made it hard for Ryan to get in. The tickets were in his real name, which meant they hadn’t assigned a name to him, which means he had no name to use with convincible records.

This really was the last mission they were giving him. Tarnishing his name, but getting him out of the business for good.

The team was pretty young, but had moved up fast. Probably in thanks to the people in it and their recklessness. This was a weird gang and it was making Ryan’s stomach churn more than it already had been. Weird gangs were no good, they were too unpredictable.

Geoff Ramsey led the group, not much on him. Rich, classy, alcoholic. Most of the other gangs had disrespectful opinions on him and the gossip mill just called him weak and careless. Clearly, that was working for them. Police reports mainly painted him as a pretty brutal man. Several deaths attributed to him in multiple states, all were messy deaths that only came with execution-style mob kills. The LSPD didn’t have any reports on him, though Marco had clipped some reports of crimes that were open in Los Santos onto the file. Must be things that Geoff was suspected of having a hand in.

Jacqueline Pattillo was second in command (allegedly) and seemed to be one of the driving forces behind keeping everything together. Other gangs regarded her with respect and, sometimes, admiration. She is notoriously nice and caring, it seemed, and was the least likely of the five of them to shoot first and ask later. She had been named in a lot of the reports that were clipped onto Geoff’s files, so they had worked together for a while. Los Santos seemed to be the area of most success for them, though Liberty City was good to them for a few years.

Gavin Free was…? His file was the most empty of them all. The sheet of paper in it was just a police report on someone hacking into something and then the gang hitting it. On the back of the paper someone had written “sucks dick but a good hacker.” That didn’t tell Ryan a lot, maybe this Gavin wasn’t that involved. It wasn’t clear what this was supposed to mean, but Ryan would watch out for Gavin. Out of all of them he’d be the most likely to find something on Ryan.

Michael Jones and Ray Narvaez Junior had the biggest files. Mug shots and full arrest forms with statements were in their files, along with gang gossip and whatever was being said about them. Michael had a longer record than Ray, but only by a little. Both of them looked shockingly similar, the difference only being glasses, hair color, and skin color. Both had been arrested multiple times in New Jersey, both had been bailed out by the same person and the charges were _mysteriously_ dropped each time as well. Sorting through other agent’s notes Ryan was able to form a pretty good picture of the two. Michael and Ray were either siblings or childhood friends and they were the most dangerous in the Crew. Confirmed kill count was unknowable, but the unconfirmed kill count stretched from the East Coast to the West Coast. Ray was good with snipers and Michael was good with heavy weapons. According to the notes, these two were the ones who kept the gang going. Without them, the Crew would barely tread water.

Michael’s file painted a clear picture of his personality. The police reports all talked about his anger and his outbursts, several times talking about having to restrain him. He didn’t seem the type to have the best planning skills, but he could get through the plan. The police reports talked about some curious things, like how Michael surrendered to them once after they had Ray, like how he always seemed to go a little crazy whenever people mentioned family or friends. He was loyal, obviously, probably would be harder to earn his trust.

Ray was clearly the brains to Michael’s brawn. Arrested less than Michael and a name that showed up on Michael’s bail a lot, they had grown up together. Ryan had to admit he admired this Ray guy a little; the biggest chunk of Ray’s file was from Miami. It talked a lot about drug dealers spilling and saying that their boss was a Mr. Ray Narvaez Junior. The files were both gossip on how Ray was controlling the city and how other gangs had been pushed out plus police reports on trying to find and arrest him. Several SWAT missions had crashed and burned and gotten nothing back. Eventually, it seemed, Ray just left the city. He was tracked to a few Midwest towns before he and Michael landed in Los Santos.

Ray was the biggest trouble, Ryan decided. Any man who could run a city like Miami was someone to worry about.

 

The next morning saw Ryan on his ninth cup of coffee and on a plane to Los Santos. He had made some phone calls and gotten a job as a bartender in a bar within the Crew’s territory. Reports said they most frequently went there to drink, if they weren’t drinking at home. The slow game was to bide his time and slowly become a familiar face they could drunkenly trust, and then he could improvise a way to get them to let him tag along. There was no other plan, but he figured that with how sloppy these guys seemed to be it shouldn’t be too hard to get in with them.

The plane ride was exhausting and he slept the whole trip, sleeping through at least four screaming kids and the person behind him repeatedly opening and closing their tray.

Getting into Los Santos was a lot like getting into Hell, Ryan figured. If he didn’t die here, then God really did still love him. The heat was more manageable than the oppressive smother of Georgia’s and it was mild enough that he felt he could probably wear whatever he wanted. The city was fairly grimy and seemed like all one color of dusty sand. The tiny little apartment his boss had set him up with had two rooms, one with a kitchen and a mattress and then a bathroom. Cute, sorta. Mainly small and annoying. The bar was only a building across the street and down some. Not so bad, all things considered. This part of town was even relatively stable, since it was in the middle of the Crew territory.

The bar was unimpressive, some booths and TVs. Really low-key and not a lot of heavy traffic. The first few weeks of working there had been aggravatingly slow and he had to get used to bartending again, like riding a bicycle. OK, harder than that, he had to restudy mixes for two night’s straight to keep from messing up, but it was easy to get into once you figured it out again. Casual charisma was easy for Ryan to fake and he had been keeping a hard look out for the Crew the whole time. A few more (sloppy) heists had gone down while he was here, another weird thing.

They didn’t _need_ to steal from banks or stores or anything, they had plenty of drug money, but they kept doing it. Gavin even got arrested for a few seconds before the rest of the Crew broke him out. What was the point? Why risk themselves like that? The longer Ryan spent here the more he was sure his boss had just been trying to get him killed, these guys were just plain reckless.

 

When Geoff and Michael finally stumbled in late one night in Ryan’s third month in Los Santos Ryan practically wanted to kiss them. The plan was finally getting started, and he wasn’t going to have to stay here for years on end. Thank God.

As they sank into the barstools the rest of the place seemed to clear out, Ryan swore the other bartender even left. Closing was in five minutes, which might have contributed to it. Their conversation was hushed and they were bent towards each other, but Geoff had a hand over the bar and tried to reach for a glass. Ryan glided over to the two and pushed the man’s hand away and retrieved two glasses. Making a shrugging motion, he raised his eyebrows at them in questioning. Their conversation had stopped once Ryan had pushed Geoff’s hand back over the bar and they were looking at him critically. _Would suck to get shot right now_ , Ryan thought idly. Geoff glanced at Michael and then smiled at Ryan, it was meant to intimidate, but Ryan kept up his nonchalant act up. The smile had been all teeth and his shoulders had squared as he sat up a little straighter.

“Give me anything, barkeep.” Geoff finally barked, waving a hand dismissively and turning back to Michael.

Michael was searching for something more though, like he was trying to pick some category to push Ryan into. “Where are you from?” Michael asked, instead of giving Ryan an order. Filling up Geoff’s glass, Ryan smiled a little.

Michael’s question was to help him decide if Ryan was crazy or just new to town. Probably mystified by the boldness he had to stick around when everyone else had clearly left.

“Out of town.” His reply was mild and he set the glass in front of Geoff. Michael’s eyes had narrowed.

Ryan had eventually just put some beer in the glass and set it in front of Michael, the two of them had gone back to talking instead of paying him any heed. They spoke way too quiet for him to be actually pick up any of the conversation, so he just went to work on closing up the bar. Ryan wiped down counters and put chairs up onto tables and patiently waited for the two of them to leave. Occasionally Geoff or Michael would push their empty glass away and Ryan would wind his way back around the bar and fill them a new one. He would have to dishes tomorrow when he got back in, but it was a small price to pay to get them used to his presence.

One of the things he learned was to never push it, never force yourself into groups. The quickest way to get people to resent and distrust you is to invade their space. It truly was the long game he was playing, but it was the best bet. He could have carved out his own gang empire and waited until they came to integrate him, but that was risky. Ryan wanted to live on after this, to find a new life, to settle down, those things.

Ryan had flicked the TV back on impatiently and watched infomercials for another few hours, passive aggressively checking his wrist watch every few minutes. The two crime-lords still didn’t pay attention to him, though they seemed to be slowing down significantly. It was seven A.M. when they finally left, and Ryan dumped the dirty glasses into the sink and just left. He had to be back at 12 and really wanted some sleep.

From that point on, every few weeks Geoff and Michael would walk in somewhere between 12 and 3 A.M. and stay until the sun was up and then leave. They rarely ever said anything beyond a few words to Ryan, and rarely ever did anything other than talk lowly to each other. If they came in Ryan knew to turn on the TV and get comfy, because he wasn’t leaving for several hours. At some point he had started trying to make peanut tricks and catching them in his mouth no matter how he threw them. Sometimes, if he was lucky, Ryan would be able to get some more conversation out of them. Not much, at most they would ask him how his day was.

“Hey, man, what’s your name?” Geoff slurred one night, a hand waving Ryan over. He had been leaning against the back counter and watching a Maury rerun when this happened, and he was a little startled.

“Ryan,” he replied, drifting back over to the two men.

“You’re a pretty cool dude, you know? I’m Geoff, this is Michael,” Geoff said as he leaned over the bar and lowering his voice, “We’re gangbangers.” Ryan only barely contained his smirk at this. This was old news and the fact Geoff though Ryan didn’t know was astounding. Probably a little cocky of Geoff, too, not to mention sloppy.

“Why you in Los Santos?” Michael interrupted something Geoff was about to say, and Geoff snapped his head to the side to send Michael a look. “Just, you’re a pretty big dude,” Michael barreled on, glancing back and forth between Geoff and Ryan. “Don’t know why Los Santos is the place you chose, San Diego is prettier and far nice and just up the road.” Ryan smiled and pushed out a little laugh. Michael’s words had slurred a little, but not half as much as Geoff’s. Geoff drank more than Michael.

Stepping back to lean against the back counter, Ryan shrugged a shoulder. “Why’d you two come here?” Ryan replied, arms crossed in front of his chest.

Michael’s eyes had narrowed and Geoff just looked bored. “We’re the ones asking here, dude. We’re the ones with the power here.” Ryan rolled his eyes at Geoff’s tone, and pushed back off the counter so he could switch the TV off. They were cocky, so, so cocky.

“Well, have a nice night fellas,” Ryan said conversationally, “we all have things we’re running from, right?” Ryan flicked a key in their general direction and started to head out. “Lock up when you leave, please.” It was a bold move, but they would be looking for someone who could hold their own, surely. Ryan was posturing to them, he had gotten them used to him and now it was time for him to start making himself look like someone they could bring into their world.

The rest of that night had been restless, and he didn’t see Michael or Geoff at the bar again the next night. They hadn’t locked up and had just left the key on the bar, but it’s the thought that counts and they _had_ closed the door behind them. Some dreary weeks later would see them crash back through the doors though, and with friends. A few hours beforehand Ryan had watched the news talk about them robbing some bank and getting away with it, he had even heard the police sirens go shooting down the street in front of the bar. Sometimes, his stomach would jump a little and he would think about how he, someday, would be part of that and would get the same rush as them, probably. Would be just as banged up as they seemed to get after each heist.

Ryan had been slipping on his jacket and about to leave when the door banged open, someone had been thrown through the doors and the others grouped around the door were absolutely rolling with laughter. Upon closer reflection, it was clearly Gavin who had been tossed through the doors and in the crowd were Michael, Geoff, Jacqueline, and another female that Ryan couldn’t place.

Michael stopped laughing long enough to step over Gavin and clap Ryan’s shoulder and then wave an arm over the group. “Gavin is on the floor, then Geoff, Jackie, and Lindsay. Guys, this is Ryan, the most mysterious bartender this side of the Rockies. Hasn’t ever made us pay!” Michael tripped over his own words and had to try a few times on some of them, but he got it all out. He smelled heavily of alcohol, to be honest, they all kind of did. Lindsay was a new face that wasn’t in any of the files he had, so she must work someplace further down the line. Ryan was turned by Michael and given a little shove back behind the bar. Rolling his eyes and glancing at his watch, a defeated sigh slid out of his lips and he began yanking off his jacket. The shit he puts up with so he can get this entire thing over.

(It was inching closer and closer to being a full year in Los Santos, by now, anyway.)

The sun was crawling over the horizon when Geoff yanked Ryan by his shirt, nearly right over the bar, and yelled in his ear that he should come aboard with them. The past few hours had been educational for Ryan; he had watched a responsible Jackie try and reign the other four in and apologize to Ryan for the messes they kept making. He would only wave a hand dismissively at her while Gavin babbled about something he was only half-catching and Michael and Lindsay were looking like a serious make-out session was soon in their future. He had only barely sidestepped more inquires about his life before coming to Los Santos and inquires about why he was in Los Santos by changing the conversation as quickly as possible. They were all, even Jackie, smashed out of their damn heads. Heaving another long-suffering sigh, Ryan steadied himself on the counter and pulled out of Geoff’s grasp.

“Why?” Ryan responded, he was only slightly suspicious that they would be this careless. They didn’t even know anything about him. Hell, he could be a cop, he wasn’t, but he was the closest he could be to one without actually having the badge.

“Don’t fuck around the bush. You’re strong and got a good head,” Geoff’s voice hardened slightly as he leaned heavily against the bar, “we could use another heavy hitter. Need someone to cover the rear.” Ryan narrowed his own eyes, but nodded. It was a logical viewpoint; they would have to assume something about him with how much he avoided their questions. It just so happened they assumed right. Geoff grinned and Jackie next to him held out a hand to shake Ryan’s. He returned the shake, which must have been some contract signing thing because Gavin applauded from where he was in one of the booths. Michael and Lindsay were in another booth but he couldn’t see them. These fucking drunks had to head home so he could clean the place up before putting in his resignation tomorrow.

“How are you all getting home?” Ryan questioned as he yanked Gavin up and out of the booth so he could inspect it and make sure it was still clean.

His back was towards the bar, so he didn’t see Geoff’s shrug, but Jackie talked where Geoff didn’t. “Probably just drive, we’re not _that_ drunk.”

Frowning heavily, Ryan kicked the booth Michael and Lindsay were in, they had been making out, and waited for them to get up and move. “Don’t be stupid. I can just drive you guys. I’m going to need to know the place, anyway, right?”

From there they all piled into Ryan’s truck and gave him directions. He got told the wrong way at least three times and had to circle back to the bar and wait for someone else to give him the way each time, it was gruelingly endearing. Eventually, he pulled into the parking garage of an expensive-looking condominium building and led into the elevator.

“Everyone usually just stays at Geoff’s; he has enough couches and beds for us all to crash on. You and Gavin get the couches most likely, Ray took one of the beds and Lindsay and Michael took other one,” Jackie said, she was the one who finally gave him the right directions and was helping him keep everyone on their feet long enough to get into the condo. Ryan didn’t say anything about how she didn’t mention where she was sleeping, it wasn’t his business, he figured.

Each person stumbled off to his or her own bed or couch and the condo quieted down. It was a nice place, and Ryan figured he should probably actually leave so that he could make them seek him out again, but he was in now. None of the usual things he would bring with him to the main hide-out were with him, all behind a board of the wall in the shitty apartment he had. But, _he was in now._ He could go back later. Gavin had sprawled out across one of the couches, so Ryan dropped onto the one across from it. The silence of the room lulled him into sleeping, even if he had wanted to stay up later and think.

 

 

The morning quietness was interrupted by Gavin squawking indignantly. Ryan pried his eyes open to see Ray sitting on Gavin’s stomach with a bowl of cereal in one hand and the remote in his other. Gavin looked awful, his eyes were red and his blond hair was sticking at ridiculous angles. His hands were pushing on Ray and he kept trying to wriggle enough to make him get off, but it didn’t seem to be working. Ray, in comparison, was in casual wear and looked fine. Probably hadn’t gone out last night. Seeing Ray in person only furthered how similar he and Michael looked, they were practically the same person. That similarity was unnerving, like they _were_ the same person.

Plus, it made the slight attraction he felt weird. Michael wasn’t his cup of tea, but Ray was the counter to Michael.

“Get _off_ me, you prick!” Gavin snapped, one hand pushing Ray’s thigh and the other starting to punch his lower back.

“Stop, I’m going to spill my cereal,” Ray laughed and slid backwards so he was off Gavin but still on the couch.

Gavin pouted and crawled out from under Ray’s legs. “You’re such a dillwad,” he grumbled and disappeared down the stairs.

Ryan scrubbed a hand across his face and sat up, smoothing down hairs the whole way up. Ray moved his gaze from the TV to him, and looked confused for a second before it passed and changed to a small smile.

“I’m Ray, you must be Ryan. Michael talks about you sometimes. Can you flip bottles?” Ray set down the remote and held out a hand to Ryan.

“Hah, of course I can. I wouldn’t work in a bar if I couldn’t.” Ryan replied, the handshake was strong and Ray’s hands were surprisingly soft, for all things considered. Ray smiled and got to work on finishing the cereal, Ryan slumped a little and rubbed the key to the bar. The clock said it was 11, so he technically didn’t need to show up until his shift at seven. Which left him with his thoughts and possibly the most dangerous member of the gang. If that didn’t make the adrenaline curl through him, he didn’t know what would.

A door downstairs closed quietly and Jackie walked up the stairs onto the main floor. She was put together well, hair perfectly styled, makeup on, nice pair of jeans and a t-shirt. She was still barefoot, but she was also holding a pair of pumps. Dropping them next to the stairs to the door she smiled. “Good morning, you two,” she moved over to the couch so she could ruffle Ray’s hair before turning and backtracking to the kitchen. Ray yelled a good morning back, Ryan just mumbled one.

Gavin stomped back upstairs and yanked out one of the island counter seats to sit on. “Are you going to make breakfast?” Gavin asked, a finger tapping the counter. Jackie scowled at him from where she was at in the kitchen.

“I wasn’t, but I can,” Jackie replied, a hand on a cereal box. “It’s only going to be cereal, though,” she finished, making Gavin groan.

“ _I_ could make that—“ Jackie interrupted Gavin’s whine by holding a hand up.

“If you want something more, you’re making it,” her voice was stern and Gavin groaned again and slid off the seat and slouched over to the couch. He sat next to Ray and pouted some more. When Jackie finished putting together the cereal she walked over to them and sat next to Ryan on the second couch. She handed him a bowl and smiled, Gavin’s pout intensified from his spot on the other couch.

“Thanks,” Ryan said, taking the bowl and starting in on it. Ray kicked Gavin’s shin as he got up to put his bowl away, making Gavin yelp.

“Damn it,” he exclaimed and grabbed a lighter from the end-table to chuck it at Ray’s head; it bounced off him with a nice _thunk_.

“Hey—“ Jackie began, before Michael’s voice shouted up from the lower level, “ _shut up, will you?_ Some of us are still trying to sleep!” Ray laughed and dropped his bowl into the sink and came back to pick up the lighter.

“Jackie, is he,” Ray’s head inclined towards Ryan, “coming with us tomorrow?” It had been an innocent question, but Jackie frowned into her bowl. Ryan didn’t know what they were talking about, hopefully a heist.

“I don’t know. It’s up to Geoff,” she replied, stirring her cereal stained milk distractedly. “Ryan, you any good at criminal stuff?” She asked, her gaze moving to him.

Gavin rolled his eyes. “Can you shoot a gun?” Gavin asked loudly, lifting his brows in Ryan’s direction.

“Yeah.” Ryan said, tried to think of something else to add to it, but couldn’t so he ended his sentence there. The others nodded and looked at each other.

“I guess we could ask Geoff whenever he shows his face.” Jackie said, sliding her bowl onto the coffee table. Gavin lounged out onto the couch and his lips curled into a devious smile.

“Or, you could have asked him last night,” his tone was playful but her eyes narrowed and she switched from glaring at Gavin to looking at Ray.

“Throw it,” she commanded, and Ray grinned. The lighter made a meatier _thunk_ when connecting with Gavin’s face.

 

One day later, Ryan was without the bar job and sitting in a black van in an alley waiting for Geoff, Jackie, and Gavin to pull up and move on with the next part of the plan. Michael and Ray were quiet over the comm-link, Ray had told them he had taken out any interference once and Michael praised him and that’s it. Jackie and Gavin were loud, Gavin yelling at the clerk and Jackie murmuring instructions she had to do. They had gotten louder as they pulled into the alley. Not because they were closer, but because they were communicating with Michael now. A fire was burning from the building they had exploded and the night smelled heavily of the ash.

“Car on the right, Geoff,” Ryan said smoothly, reaching across and opening the passenger door. Geoff hopped in and Ryan mostly tuned out the yelling on the comm as he pressed the gas and got them out of there. From what Geoff and he could hear, everything went to shit with the others. Michael exploded the second distraction, Gavin and Jack had gone radio silent and Michael and Ray didn’t know where they were, and Michael had a leg wound.

The marina was clear when they got to it, so they just kept going with the plan. Geoff kept trying to pry things out of Ray and Michael as Ryan started the boat. “Where did they go? What happened? Did they get shot?” Geoff was pressing on, he sounded angry. Michael’s “I don’t know!” was tinny over the comm. Geoff slammed a fist on the boat and signaled for Ryan to start moving. Michael and Ray were talking to each other, mostly about what they had seen and if they would be OK. Ray kept saying stuff about how they shouldn’t be on a bike and Michael was yelling about how there were a lot of cops. “Come on, tell me what happened!” Geoff finally shouted, his hands reaching into the bag and sorting through the money, counting it.

“Look, Ray pulled up into the alley and I got on. Gavin and Jackie were lagging behind and cops were starting to pull in. I’m pretty sure they made it out of that clusterfuck but otherwise neither of us have a fucking clue. We know as much as you. If they aren’t talking then they fucking made the decision to go off the grid.” Michael said, his voice rising into a higher pitch to show his anger.

“Or, they’re dead,” Geoff snarled back, and Ryan glanced over.

“Geoff…” Ryan’s tone was meant to be a warning, to tell him to calm down. Geoff must have gotten it, because he sighed and slumped back into his seat. The boat was gliding through the waters, heading north towards the meet-up point. Ray shouted something, but that end of the comm suddenly got very loud and a piercing squeal prompted both Geoff and Ryan to tear out their comm earpiece.

“What the fuck?” Ryan said, raising his shoulders to press the side of his head to it on the ear that had had the earpiece. Geoff slammed his fist against the boat again and rubbed his face.

“Fucking—they crushed their comms. Ray and Michael always do that when they’re hurt and taking off.” Geoff’s lips twisted into an unpleasant snarl. “We might as well keep on going to the meet up point.” He sighed, slumping in the seat. Ryan glanced at him again before speeding up so they could get up there faster.

“I’m sure they’re all fine—“ Geoff cut off Ryan’s sentence with a stern look. “They’re fine. We’ve done this a lot. They end up off comm more often than not. That’s how we do it.” Geoff snapped, one hand running through his hair.

They sat at the meet-up point for two hours before deciding to leave. The drive back to the condo was quiet and tense. Ryan’s first heist hadn’t gone wrong on his end, so he figured it wasn’t a count against him. The elevator ride was perhaps even tenser, Geoff’s fists clenching and unclenching. Exiting the elevator Geoff unlocked the condo door and let Ryan in first. Stepping in, the smell of blood and medicine nearly knocked him over. Geoff dropped the cash over the railing and onto the bottom level and then followed Ryan down onto the main level.

Gavin was on one couch, knocked out, and Jackie was on the other. They both looked fucked up, but alive. Ryan crouched next to Gavin and examined his wounds, they all seemed pretty nonlife-threatening and most had been treated already. He kept his back to Geoff and Jackie to let them have their privacy. Their quiet words weren’t quite drifting over to them but it seemed like Jackie was trying to assure Geoff of something. Probably that she was OK.

It was another few hours before the door slammed open and Michael and Ray got in. Ray’s arm was around Michael’s shoulders and he looked pretty out of it. Ryan ignored the slight twinge of worry he felt. He must be going crazy or something. To intrigued and/or obsessed with figuring out people for his own good. That’s all.

“Sorry, Geoff, we had to split,” Michael said loudly, half-dragging Ray down the first set of stairs. He didn’t stop there and maneuvered Ray to start down the second set to the lower level. “Everyone else OK?” He asked, taking some heaving breaths to prepare before taking all of Ray’s weight again.

“Yeah, they’re OK. Just a simple mistake, anyway.” Geoff said from the island counter and around the rim of a bottle. Ryan was sat on the counter next to the fridge and across from the island counter. A few minutes later Michael jogged back upstairs and fell into one of the seats next to Geoff. He pulled the bottle away from him and downed a finger.

“My leg’s fine, Ray got got in the shoulder and his arm is fractured,” Michael switched from Geoff to Ryan and held out a coin. “Heads I stay with Ray all night and make sure he doesn’t bleed through his bandage or unsettle his arm, tails you do it.” Ryan nodded and watched Michael flip the coin. It was, of course, tails. He frowned, but shrugged. What could go wrong, not like he had spent plenty of time wondering about how the fuck a barely 20 year old kid ran Miami and then ended up in Los Santos. Not like he spent time wondering what he was like, not like he spent time—

Damn. He needed to chill out. He was acting like some kind of weirdo. He wasn’t like…into him. Probably. Most likely not. They would end up killing each other, in the end, he figured. Since Ray didn’t seem the type to be tricked easy. But it would be awfully fun—

“They already put him through surgery?” Ryan asked, drinking from his water bottle to try and chill out. Michael nodded.

“Took a hefty sum to bribe everyone to do it quietly, too,” Michael frowned a little and slapped Geoff’s back. “I’m going to bed, make sure you get some sleep tonight, also.” Geoff only sighed and took another chug from the alcohol in front of him.

Ryan slid off the counter and pulled the bottle away from Geoff. “I think it’s time for you to be cut off. Go to bed. These two are fine, get some sleep.” Ryan’s best bartender voice commanded, Geoff just nodded and put his forehead on the counter.

“I meant in a—“ Ryan was stopped by Geoff lifting his head and glaring at him, “OK, OK. I’m leaving,” he held up his hands as he walked out of the kitchen area and headed down to the lower level. Ray’s usual room was the smallest one at the end of the hall. Opening the door, Ryan flicked on the lights and took in the room. It was kept fairly clean, white carpet and white walls. There was a desk with a computer pressed against the far wall; the closet was small and to the right wall. The bed was pressed against the wall with the door to the rest of the house and it was only a queen-sized thing, it had brown sheets and Ray was only sort of on it. Michael had clearly just dumped him on it and left.

A long-suffering sigh came all the way from deep in Ryan’s chest as he tried to gently move Ray fully onto the bed, Ray made several groaning noises but never stirred. Must be on some strong shit. Ryan pulled off Ray’s shoes and set them under the edge of the bed, his shoulder wasn’t bleeding through and his arm wasn’t going to be a problem unless he bashed it through the wall or something.

Now, Ryan could sleep on the floor, which would suck, sleep in the chair, which would equally suck, or crawl into the bed and just sleep as far away from Ray as he could. Ryan wasn’t…straight, really, but he had no idea how Ray would feel so, it was just a gamble. Also, he didn’t want to wake up cuddled next to anyone.

Finally, Ryan just laid on the bed and willed himself into a slumber. If he just never moved then everything would be perfectly fine. He definitely did _not_ think about how Ray was the most dangerous of them all, definitely did not think about how Ryan could feel the gun underneath this pillow and how there was probably another one under the other pillow, and most importantly did not think about how out of the entire Crew, Ray was the only one that made Ryan question his own rule to not start relationships.

Which—damn. That hadn’t even been in his thought process before. Maybe he had a contact high from being around Geoff’s sorry drunk ass. He barely even knew the kid! It had been what, two days? He had definitely spent an embarrassing amount of time reading over his file, yes, but this was ridiculous.

Ryan’s rule following was very intense. He set himself strict standards and rules and that was what kept him alive and pushing this many years in gang infiltration. Rule one was no personal relationships, rule two was no senseless killing, rule three was no one is your real friend, and rule four was remember the goal. Every few years he would run into someone who made him want to break a rule. This had to be only the smallest of crushes ever, so he was not going to start worrying about the rules. It had only been three days, anyway, he was just admiring the type of man Ray was. Not a killer, but quiet and efficient at all things. Well, still a killer, he had killed before. But Ryan had also, so it evened out. God, he was going to have an aneurysm from overthinking this. Maybe he just found the kid attractive. That’s all. _That’s all_.


	2. nothing will come of nothing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gangs were always close knit; they always knew each other intimately and cared for each other like family. This Crew, however, didn’t seem like inherently violent people. Michael carried the air of violence with him but he talked about cartoon shows at breakfast and complained about his tires going flat. Geoff did account balancing. Jackie went grocery shopping and asked everyone how they were. Gavin was always being a brat. Michael and Lindsay were the most domestic couple he’d ever seen in his life.

Ryan was not scared of blood. The sight of blood didn’t do anything to him anymore, yet, this morning he swore everything in his stomach was going to be coming out. It all started with the buzzing of his phone, still in his pocket, and the subsequent awareness of the weight on his chest. The light blow of air from the ceiling fan blew over him, and he felt chilled. Which was weird, and when he opened his eyes he had to close them again to control himself. At some point during the night Ray had rolled. He had rolled so he was practically all the way on top of Ryan, who hadn’t moved once during the night. That wouldn’t have been a problem usually, even if he did have some slightly concerning feelings rolling around his brain for the man, except for the soreness in his left shoulder that Ryan was almost certain came from Ray tossing his cast over Ryan’s body. And, that wasn’t even the biggest problem. Ray’s shoulder had bled straight through the bandage, and while that had been expected, Ryan had not expected it to happen so soon or for it to happen while Ray was laying half-on top of him. The blood had bled through the bandage and onto Ryan’s chest and stomach. The chill was from how soaked he was in the blood.

Reopening his eyes and steeling his jaw, Ryan brought his left arm up to move Ray’s head from where it was on his right shoulder. Pale, but not looking too awful, a little bit of relief flooded through Ryan at that and he started trying to move Ray off him. Moving enough to wiggle his right arm out from underneath Ray, Ryan placed it on his lower back and used his left to grip the other’s upper back before slowly turning over to his side. Ray was making little groan noises like he was in pain, which he might have been, but he didn’t seem to really be all there. Once Ray and Ryan were on their sides Ryan withdrew his right arm from under both of them and used it to pull himself up and control how fast he moved Ray to his back. Another groan slid from Ray and Ryan had to sit on his knees on the bed to pull the pillows up enough so he could move Ray onto them. The shirt Ray had on was white; probably something from the hospital, and it was starting to psyche Ryan out with how red it had turned. Ray was still breathing, and wasn’t looking completely sunken in so it couldn’t be bad enough to worry too much.

Ray’s eyes fluttered open and a hand came up to grip Ryan’s wrist when he started to pull him up into a sitting position. His teeth were gritted and he looked confused, like he couldn’t figure out what was going on. His eyes didn’t quite make contact with Ryan before he slumped again, which only made Ryan try and speed up the whole getting the dead weight into a sitting position thing again. Jumping off the bed, Ryan headed out into the bathroom on the lower level. The Crew had lots of extensive med-kits stashed around, which only made Ryan think that these kinds of things happened more often than not, and they were almost always fully stocked. Taking it back into the room Ryan flicked the light on and crouched on the bed next to Ray again. Peeling off the shirt was the first order of business, and Ryan briefly considered just cutting it off. Ray had woken up since Ryan left though, so he cooperated with Ryan’s prodding.

“Do you know what medicine they are giving you?” Ryan asked quietly, wadding up the bloodied shirt and dropping it over the edge of the bed. He leaned forward to begin un-wrapping the soiled bandage and waited for the answer. Hopefully, Ray would know and let Ryan know if he could give him another dose of it. Hopefully, anyways. Ryan was no doctor, but after spending this many years in the business of guns and drugs it became a life-skill to know how to bandage and stitch. Also, Ryan knew a damn lot about digging bullets out of bodies and wounds.

“Pain medicine.” Ray mumbled, his head had dropped and he was only barely awake again. Christ. Ryan rolled his eyes and pulled a gauze piece to press against this side of the wound. He pulled Ray forward so his head was on Ryan’s shoulder and he looked at the back of his shoulder. Clean through, that was good, Ryan supposed.

“Yes, but what is it?” Ryan said slowly, wrapping a new roll of bandage around the gauze pads against the wound. He craned his head around to see if he could find a pill bottle, but couldn’t. So Michael had to have it. Or Ray did and it was in his pockets.

“Ew, shirt is bloody,” Ray ground out, and Ryan pulled him off to frown at the blood that was now on Ray’s neck and face. Woops. “Pocket.” Ray finally answered, sighing heavily and eyes fluttering shut again. Ryan finished the tying and leaned Ray back against the pillows and started patting his pockets. Ah-ha. Front right pocket. “Can I give you one?” Ryan questioned, popping off the cap.

“Fuck…yea, just do it.” Ray stuttered, hand groping for the pill container as Ryan moved away to grab the glass on the side of the bed. Not a lot of water was in it, probably from a couple of nights ago, but it would be better than swallowing the pill dry. He handed over the container and the glass of water and watched as Ray popped a pill and threw back the water. He grimaced, and then held them out. Ryan took them and set them on the little end-table next to the bed. Pulling some of the pillows away, he let Ray lay back a little and Ryan started to deal with the whole blood on him and also on the sheets problem. His shirt had dripped a little everywhere, a trail leading out of into the room again. That was a big problem, and would worry the Crew members who were functioning when they saw it. It was seven A.M though, so he had about four hours to decide if he wanted to deal with it. Admittedly, he didn’t want to, he was tired and the only smell he could smell was the metallic stench of blood.

First, Ryan pulled the blankets off the bed to get most of the bloody stuff off of the bed. Second, Ryan yanked his shirt off to ball it up and toss it next to Ray’s ruined shirt. Ray made a noise from the bed, it sounded sort of appreciative, but Ryan chose to ignore it and flicked off the lights before leaving the room. A shower sounded really good right about now, and a lot of blood was still smeared on him. So nasty.

 

He didn’t go back to that room after the shower, needed to distance himself a little. Besides, Ray had a new dose of medicine to knock him out for a bit. Moving around was not something he was about to be doing.

The members of the Crew without a steady bedroom used the big walk in closet that wasn’t even really a closet. It was just an open area that had clothing racks around it and a curtain that could be pulled across the opening if someone wanted to change. Ryan yanked the curtain closed and just stood there in his towel for a little bit. Sometimes, when he thought about how…personable these people were he would feel overwhelmed. The casual numbness of earlier would pull back and he would feel bad for what he was going to do later. He felt bad that at some point all of these people would be thrown in jail. It had only been a few days of officially being in the Crew, yet they had welcomed him so easy. He would probably be the Crew’s first ever betrayal, their first and last betrayal.

No way would he let himself get disillusioned by simple concerns though, they killed for sport. He killed for work, it was different.

Shaking his head angrily, Ryan yanked the casual mask of numbness back over his thoughts and got dressed. Just a pair of track pants and a gray t-shirt, and his hair was plastered against his ears and forehead. He really needed a haircut. His five o’clock shadow was in with a vengeance and he was sure the bags under his eyes were more than a little noticeable. Ryan jogged up to the main level and took in the three people still in the living area. Gavin was passed out on the couch, as usual, but Geoff had squished himself onto the other couch with Jackie. Cute, or whatever. Walking around the couches, Ryan flicked the TV off and checked Gavin’s injuries as best as he could without waking him. Gavin had only gotten a few grazes and a slash wound, nothing too terrible. Would have been worse if he and Jackie hadn’t bailed out.

For the next 10 minutes Ryan just paced around for a bit, it was early and he had nothing to do. Well, now that he was thinking about it, he knew he had to find a way to protect his identity. Those people in Atlanta didn’t deserve to look at the news one day and see his name plastered along with pictures of blown buildings and dead bodies. They would forever relate him back to the drug war in Los Santos and would always think of him as some sort of gangster criminal. He wasn’t, he swore to it. Even in his darkest moments he had always pulled himself back, discipline was his bitch and he had control of all facets of his being and life. Mostly.

Anyway, he pulled on some socks, sneakers, and his jacket and headed out. This had been something Ryan had thought about for a long time, he had already ran the idea by Geoff, said that although he was gang-affiliated he always had worked small-time and behind the scenes. This would be the first time, he claimed, he would have any coverage about himself on news. The excuse was that he had run off from some Atlanta gang and left them with especially sour tastes in their mouths. If they found out where he was, they would come. Geoff had nodded sagely and agreed that Ryan ought to start disguising himself. Los Santos had always been the jobs he would never be given, Ryan worked jobs that didn’t mean big coverage. That meant that he could go from job to job with a slightly different appearance and a new name with no problem, this job was wrecking anything else he would be able to do. As long as the cops and shit couldn’t see his face, then they wouldn’t be able to put a name on the TV to yell about. Problem number one dealt with in one fair shot.

Ryan’s problem number two was how likeable these people were. Gangs were always close knit; they always knew each other intimately and cared for each other like family. This Crew, however, didn’t seem like inherently violent people. Michael carried the air of violence with him but he talked about cartoon shows at breakfast and complained about his tires going flat. Geoff did account balancing. Jackie went grocery shopping and asked everyone how they were. Gavin was always being a brat. Michael and Lindsay were the most domestic couple he’d ever seen in his life. Ray was the most gangster out of all of them, the most involved in the drugs, anyway. He never did anything more than weed, but he knew all of the drug dealers in the territory. Hell, Ryan was pretty sure he knew every drug dealer in the city. Friends with them, too. Other gangs Ryan worked with were unlikeable. Full of people who bragged about their kill count or had cute nicknames like _Cop Killah_ and spent thousands every night. The materialistic and posturing side of gang life was easy and familiar to Ryan, this domestic shit was throwing him through the ringer.

This little trip would give him the amount of distance he needed to reestablish that control over his dislike of them. As long as deep down he still could find the hate for them, he would be able to fake it for however long he would be here. The drive to the coast was quiet and gave him plenty of thinking room. It was rush hour, and everyone was out, but that only lengthened how long he would be in the car. The only thing that had kept Ray from bleeding out on top of Ryan was Ryan’s phone alarm, and that made him jumpy. Too close, too fast. After a good half-hour of reminding himself of all the reasons he had to hate the Crew, Ryan arrived on the coast. Jumping out of the truck, Ryan pushed on a pair of sunglasses and made his way down to the mask shop, he needed something to completely cover his head. A gray skull mask caught his attention; it was menacing enough to make people scared and covered enough head to keep him a mystery. Perfect.

On the way back to the condo, Ryan’s phone started buzzing. “Ryan here,” he answered, his boredom of this car ride coming through into his voice. He hadn’t even checked the caller ID, just answered.

“Where the fuck are you?” Michael demanded, sounding angry. Had Ray started bleeding through again? Did he let him overdose on pain pills? Why was Michael angry?

“In the car heading back, why?” Ryan said, starting to grow impatient of this red light.

“Are you OK?” Michael asked, his tone never dying down to anything other than forceful.

“Uh, yeah?” Ryan was starting to feel confused, “why wouldn’t I be?”

“ _Uh_ , you know,” Michael mocked, “the whole blood trail thing and also the second, not-Ray’s bloody t-shirt?” Ryan scoffed at the questioning over the shirt. It really wasn’t that scandalous for another shirt to be bloodied.

“I’m fine, Ray is the one who bled all over me,” He slid into the parking garage then, and let out a loud breath. “I’m home, I can clean it all.” He thought Michael would reply with a snappy comment, but he just made a snarling noise and hung up. OK.

The mask stayed in the truck, he’d pull it out another time. He took the stairs up to the condo, mainly because Michael had sounded mad and he wanted to avoid that, and his chest was heaving as he made it up to their floor. Damn, maybe the elevator would have been better. Calming down his breathing and wiping his brow, Ryan opened the door to the condo and stepped in. It was as quiet as before, but Michael was pacing and Lindsay was eating scrambled eggs. Michael only narrowed his eyes and walked over to the stairs to the bottom level.

“Clean this shit _up_!” Michael’s voice was raised as he gestured to the blood on the floor of the bottom level and Geoff made an answering groan of _shut up_ from the couch. Ryan only held his hands up in surrender and pulled the wood floor cleaner out and got to work. He was sure the amount of hostility towards him was for more than just getting the floor bloody and leaving it that way, but he couldn’t quite pinpoint what else would be bothering the other man.

 

Gavin’s voice over the comm was muddled, this was their first heist since the last big screw up, and for some Godforsaken reason Geoff had decided to let Gavin do all of the planning. Ryan wasn’t very confident in this plan, but he figured it couldn’t be too bad. Ray was still in a cast, but his shoulder had healed. Michael’s leg had healed, and Gavin and Jackie were up to pretty much normal functionality. It was a complicated plan that was…Ryan wasn’t sure how to feel about it. He was driving the ambulance, currently stationed behind Gavin and Ray and in front of Geoff. Michael was loitering outside the convenience store and Jackie was on the roof, keeping a look-out. Later, Jackie would be the getaway driver for Michael.

Ryan isn’t sure exactly when the plan goes to hell, probably when the explosives on the tanker don’t go off and Jackie has to blow it herself. Everyone was in a panic from there, Michael was whooping excitedly from the inside of the store as he waited for Jackie to give him the all clear to get to her. During these high energy moments, it was hard to listen to the comm. Everyone’s voice is going at once. Once the tanker had blown Gavin and Ryan threw it in forward and got moving to the store. Of course, through some twist of fate, Gavin’s fire truck managed to perfectly hit the gas pump. The resulting explosion wasn’t half as big as it could have been, or half as bad as it could have been, and in reality it was just the fire spreading from the already exploded pump onto the fire truck plus the impact speed. Ryan felt a jolt of panic; _Gavin and Ray were inside of that thing!_ But he kept pushing forward; his AK was heavy in his hands as he kept cops off of Michael, who was running to the meet up point with Jackie, and kept the cops away from the on fire fire truck. Geoff’s fire truck wasn’t doing much to help, and he heard Geoff say that he was heading to the next plan point. Michael expressed confusion on what to do next, because Gavin wasn’t replying.

That was all Ryan got to hear, anyway, before he didn’t hear, but _felt_ the bullet that ripped through his mask and plowed straight through his ear. He was in a heap in seconds, fingers clawing at his mask to get it off his head, the blood was starting to run down into the bottom of the mask, and when he finally pulled it off it smeared disgustingly over his chin and nose and forehead. His ear was ringing so much he could barely think; all he could do was roll underneath the ambulance and hope the cops go check someplace else first. The comm had been ripped out with the bullet, along with part of his _fucking ear_. The bullet had grazed starting at his cheekbone and kept going until the curve of his head started. His hands were pressed against the right side of his face, trying to hold it all together. In all of his work, he had never suffered a wound that would stick with him forever. Scars, those stuck forever, but never in a way that this would. _A chunk of his ear was gone_!

The ringing had started to get quieter, but he still couldn’t hear anything else out of that ear. He was in the process of trying to get himself in working order when the sounds of gunfire reignited on the side of the ambulance he had gone down. He jumped and cringed away from the sound, his back facing towards that way. Someone was yelling at him, he realized, and then he felt a hand clamp on his jacket and yank him out from under the ambulance. Sprawled on his back, Ryan finally figured out how to focus on the sound coming into his left ear, and not the ringing from his right.

“Get. _Up_!” Ray shouted as he was crouched down next to Ryan, the arm with the cast fisted in the front of Ryan’s jacket. His other arm was a fiery red and also holding his pink AK. Gavin was providing covering fire at the cops on the other side of the ambulance. Ryan nodded, and grabbed Ray’s casted wrist. Ray yanked his jacket again and Ryan shook himself out of his fucking stupor enough to get up and lunge over for his own gun, still left on the ground. Ray and Gavin both had fiery red arms, probably burns, though Gavin was also oozing blood from his forehead. The entire store was a damn mess, cops were mainly forced over to the far side and out of the escape route way. Fire was still burning all around them, and a real ambulance had shown up.

Ray slapped Gavin’s back and reached back to grab Ryan’s arm, then they took off across the parking lot and through the car wash. From there, they jumped a few fences and gates. Ryan had no idea where they were going and what the plan was, but he was just following Ray.

These last few weeks had been particularly awkward between them. Michael had been especially obnoxious whenever they were all hanging out, and Ray couldn’t even fully remember a solid three days. Ryan had controlled himself like a good infiltration agent and didn’t give anyone any reason to think that they had totally been cuddling for probably three or four hours. And, to add to it, his crush only grew. He felt like a pre-teen kid again as he watched Ray rein everyone in when they got too passionate or too frustrated. As he watched him quietly and easy include insertions in future plans, watched as he was friends to everyone, really, these were no huge things. Maybe Ryan secretly really loved the idea of someone better than him, where Michael had an easy to spot and easy to take advantage of fault, Ray’s were hidden.

Enough swooning, back to the action.

Ray had smashed the window of a car and slid into the driver seat. Gavin got passenger and Ryan piled into the back. His head was starting to hurt, the ringing had stopped but now he could hear everything fine out of one ear and muffled through the other. It would muddle the other two guy’s voices in his head, and while sitting in the backseat Ryan just turned his head so his left ear was facing the front seat.

“I cannot fuckin’ believe…” Ray was saying, his fingers working to hotwire the car, and Gavin was making angry huffing sounds.

“I’m sorry, OK, I didn’t expect us to practically blow up!” Gavin exclaimed, arms waving to demonstrate his feelings.

“ _Shut up_ , will you?” Ray sneered back. “Let me get us out of here before you nearly kill us again.” The car rumbled to life and Ray reversed out of the parking lot and headed towards the north side of Los Santos. He glanced in the rearview mirror at Ryan and frowned.

“Gavin, see if you can find anything to clean Ryan’s face up a bit.” Ray commanded, his hand moving to dig around in his pocket for his phone. Gavin looked around the front seat for a bit, before turning to Ray and shrugging. Ray, who was scrolling through his contacts, rolled his eyes.

Self-consciously, Ryan pulled at the brim of his shirt and used it to wipe the blood off his cheek; he left the actual wound alone though. It was better to leave it be right now since it was clotting up on its own. Ray gestured at Gavin’s shirt and brought the phone up to his ear.

“Tear a piece of your shirt, stupid,” Ray said, “try and wrap his ear or something.” Ryan hadn’t seen himself until getting into the car and goddamn, he looked torn up. Ear or head wounds were completely out of his range, should they wrap his head or something? Now that he was thinking about it, could he have a concussion? He was thinking fairly straight but…it had been a gunshot and he doesn’t really remember a lot before rolling under the ambulance. Gavin was struggling with his shirt, and finally pulled a knife out of his shoe and cut out a chunk of it. He turned to Ryan and grabbed his face to turn it. Ryan grunted and relented, but it just meant he would have to work to hear them.

He wasn’t completely deaf in his right ear, he was pretty sure, it was just really quiet. Gavin was saying something, but he was muttering and the sound of the car was overriding whatever he was saying. Ryan knew Ray was on the phone, he had started talking when Gavin had moved his head, but he couldn’t hear it. Jesus. Frustration was thick and hot in Ryan’s veins, and he struggled to try and hear around the car engine. It was clear when Ray had turned onto the highway, because the car only got louder. Gavin’s dabbing at his head stopped and he moved Ryan’s head with the same grip he had before. His lips moved, and Ray was glancing into the rearview mirror at him a lot. Oh fuck. Ryan’s brows moved towards each other and he frowned, before speaking.

“What?” It had come out loud, Ryan knew, because Gavin cringed and Ray’s hands tightened on the steering wheel. He had only spoken it so loud to try and hear over the hum of the car, but maybe he was a lot more deaf than he released. Batting Gavin’s hand away, Ryan moved his head back so his left ear was facing them again. Gavin spoke over whatever Ray was going to say.

“Can you hear us?” Gavin asked, almost completely turned around to look at Ryan. He shrugged, and pointed to his left ear.

“It’s best in this one,” Ryan said back, his volume lowering just enough to not be super loud. Gavin and Ray glanced at each other, but Ray spoke this time.

“OK, we can deal with that,” Ray’s tone had lowered into something smoother. It was supposed to be calming and reassuring, Ryan was sure. “Michael and I know this doctor uptown that treats us if we ask nicely. We’re going to her.” Ryan only nodded and gave thumbs up. Gavin looked like he was going to make Ryan move his head again, but just tossed the bloodied piece of cloth on the floorboard. Ryan raked a hand through his hair nervously and Ray bit his lip.

The rest of the ride was pretty silent, whether it was for Ryan’s poor half-deaf benefit was not known, though. Ray had called Michael once, but didn’t get an answer. He joked for a few minutes about how maybe they’ll see Michael with the Doc also, but only got forced laughs from the other two. Gavin, it was now becoming clear, was the one who definitely had a concussion. Multiple times Ray would reach over and give Gavin a little shake to keep him awake, and he would sometimes fill the silence by recounting what happened. Apparently, Gavin and Ray hadn’t been exploded or burned to death, but when they hit the pump they both threw their arms up, Gavin slamming his forehead into the steering wheel, and Ray slamming into the dash. The fire had spread quickly and both had burns on their forearms. From there, Ray had crawled over to Gavin’s side and pushed him out of the truck. Ray said he had to keep waking Gavin up, and getting him to say his name and where he was. Ray hesitated on the next part, but then said when they were both standing up and about to leave when they heard Ryan’s absolute wail of a yell, and ran around the fires to get to him.

Touching, but also adding details Ryan didn’t even know were there. He had screamed? He didn’t remember hearing or doing that.

When they pulled up to the doctor’s house it was really nice. Like on the hilltop and four stories kind of nice. The doctor was waiting outside when they pulled up, and she came down and helped Ray hoist Gavin out of the car and up the steps to her house. Ryan followed behind them, their conversation lost to him behind the noise from the city below them. She put Gavin in a room and took a description of what happened from Ray, then shooed them out of the room as another female, an assistant maybe, went in. It was quieter in the house, and Ryan was finally able to hear everyone’s conversations. Sitting on a bench outside of the room, Ray and Ryan didn’t say much.

“Thanks, you know, for coming back for me.” Ryan said and his volume was finally somewhat level. Ray smiled at him and shook his head. His arms were hovering in the air, probably to make them feel better with all the burns.

“You would have come back for us if you knew we were still alive,” Ray responded, smile sliding into a smirk. “Besides, gotta pay you back for when I bled all over you that one night.” Ryan’s jaw tightened slightly before he eased it into a playful smile. He could barely hear and a chunk of is ear was missing, he’d have some damn fun if he wanted to.

“I’m sure you’d miss the whole gun show, too,” Ryan retaliated back, and grinned at Ray’s laugh.

“Oh, yes, who else would give me the full-view after letting me nearly knock their brains out with my cast?” Ray’s shoulder brushed against Ryan’s and then they stayed like that, shoulder’s pressed together.

The air was sucked out of Ryan’s lungs. This was moving way too fast, even if he was willing to look past the whole rule system he had, there was no way he could do this, no way he could be like this with someone who had only met half a year ago. Well, actually, maybe it wasn’t so fast. Ryan’s jaw locked tight, and Ray must have felt the shift in his demeanor because he was suddenly up off the bench and saying how he needed to use the bathroom. The cold fist around Ryan’s heart locked tight and he, as carefully as he could, buried his face in his hands. This was so bad, so bad. He was a weak man who had taken too many blows to the moral horse he sat on; he was descending to the plain of the regular man and destroying all of his own plans. Stupid, it was stupid.

Ray didn’t show up again until after the Doc had seen Ryan already. She stitched up his face and ear, and told him that his hearing would probably get better with a little bit of time. She had said that he shouldn’t worry about going deaf, and the graze wasn’t deep enough to do lasting damage. He would always have worse hearing in his right ear now, but it would get better. That was nice, and Gavin had been given a fairly clean bill of health, along with Ray. Gavin had a concussion the doctor wanted to watch, but that was it. Ryan was admittedly pretty out of it, she had given him some pain medicine to dull the pain radiating through his entire body from his head and that had practically knocked him out. Ray had to almost carry him up the stairs to the guest bedrooms.

“Damn lucky I’m doing this for you when both my arms have burns on them,” Ray grunted, and held Ryan up outside of the first guest room door. “Can I trust you to make it in that room and onto the bed or should I tuck you in?” Ryan had no idea what Ray was saying, Ray was closer to his right side than his left side and he was only catching every other word. The air conditioning was louder up here. Ryan didn’t remember much, but he really, really hoped he wasn’t making the doe eyes he knew he wanted to at Ray. Ray seemed to search his face for a bit, probably looking for some sort of clue. Then, and Ryan still isn’t sure all of this happened, maybe it was some elaborate dream his drug-filled mind cooked up to ease his cold, dead heart, but Ray surged forward and kissed Ryan.

It had to be the absolute worse kiss Ray had ever had, because Ryan was high out of his mind and couldn’t even remember if he kissed back or if he just stood there with Ray doing all the work. Ryan nearly tumbled onto the floor when Ray opened the door behind him, but strong arms (that had to be stinging) were locked around him. The cast was digging weirdly into Ryan’s back and the kiss was like every fantasy come true, even if Ray seemed awkward and couldn’t quite figure out how exactly to do this whole kiss thing. When the back of Ryan’s knees hit the bed, Ray pulled away and knocked him over onto it. He moved him enough to be mostly on the bed, and pulled his shoes off. If Ray wished him a good night before he left, Ryan couldn’t hear it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well, i guess i decided to push out another chapter already?? this was a shorter chapter to compose than the rest, anyway, so here it is lol, still no beta, i actually sorta read thru this though so hopefully less mistakes : ) (altho i had 2 change names a few times bc i used the wrong one, so hopefully i caught all of those and didnt say something super confusing bc i switched character names)


	3. he thinks too much: such men are dangerous

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “The jump--!” Geoff shouted, hands curling to the bottom of the seat to try and hold himself to it. Ryan only pressed the pedal to the floor and white-knuckled the steering wheel to make the car line up with the opening on the bridge.

Ryan’s first love had been when he was 23 and in Oklahoma City. It’d only been a few months, the gang had picked him up easily within the first week and he was young and bold enough to push his luck with more intense spy tactics. He’d be out of Oklahoma in a rough three months, and he was quickly mowing through cities. 23 year old Ryan was cocky and relaxed. His trigger finger was heavy and he believed he was invincible. Hell, he was getting through cities faster than any other person on the team. Salt Lake City at 20, Kansas City at 21, Saint Louis _and_ New Orleans at 22, and now Oklahoma City was coming to a close. Most people were long-term and spent three to four years in their cities. Ryan jumped in head first and threw his morals out the window to quickly ascend the ranks of the gangs.

One of the common debates and moral questions surrounding gang infiltration has always been: how do you infiltrate violent gangs without also becoming a criminal? Ryan was not under any law, he was not sworn in under any badge, he had no reason to fear being a criminal. Florence Accounting covered his ass better than any drug money ever could. While it was good to keep a low profile, Ryan’s shaved head and bearded face was spread all across Oklahoma City, GANGSTER, they shouted with thick black words to scare people into reporting him when he walked through their diner or through their neighborhood. His kill count was whispered conversations between men sliding blocks towards each other and a hand on their guns. Of course, he had been Tony Lovetinsky of Birmingham, Alabama in Oklahoma, no way related to James Haywood of Atlanta, Georgia. He could have any woman he wanted, any man he wanted, any _thing_ he wanted.

Opal Salazar was a sister of one of the crew members, she worked in one of the restaurants they all frequented. Admittedly, meeting Opal changed Ryan’s life. Maybe for the better, maybe for the worse. Meeting Ryan had certainly changed Opal’s life. For the worse.

Her hair was inky black and her eyes were similar, except duller in color. Her mother had been from Harlem, her father was from Brazil. Her brother, David, looked more like their mother with brown hair and hazel eyes. Ryan met Opal after a few weeks with the crew; David had a pretty good position in the gang, so trips to Opal’s restaurant were frequent. Oklahoma was one of Ryan’s most tragic and terrible looks, the shaved head and beard didn’t suit him well, but every time Ryan would come in alone Opal would smile at him and tell him he looked great. David was Ryan’s best friend in the gang, he had been who got him in and somewhere in him Ryan felt guilty over how David’s faith in him was only going to lead him to ruin.

David had winked obnoxiously at Ryan one night and hip-checked him towards the restaurant. “Opal’s working tonight,” he had crooned lavishly, a grin showing his teeth. And, that was the start of the fall from grace Ryan had in Oklahoma. He would slide in Opal’s window after nights of drug runs and territory patrolling, his skin grimy and the thick smell of gun-powder running all other scents out. She would hold him and kiss the violence off his lips and run stabilizing fingers through his hair. Maybe, it wasn’t until he met Opal that he realized how out of control he was, how unlikeable and how utterly distasteful he was. His heavy trigger finger definitely lightened after their first night together.

Deep inside himself, Ryan had come to the conclusion he would never be able to betray their family. Opal deserved better, David, despite all his faults, deserved better. It wasn’t until Oklahoma that Ryan began to see the problem in close relationships with gang members; it wasn’t until he a frequent dinner guest at the Salazar’s that he realized this was why other agents struggled. All other friendships he had had in the other cities were purely superficial, guns, money, and drugs. David was almost as close to him as any of his childhood friends. Opal was the closest thing to something more than a girlfriend he’d ever had. That unsettled him unlike any other, he could leave any time he wanted to and provide Marco with all the evidence he would ever need to shut this crew down, but he couldn’t bring himself to leave David and Opal behind like that.

So, in one of the biggest mistakes of his life, Ryan stayed longer than he needed to and crawled in Opal’s window one night and closed the window behind him. He stayed there though, looking out that window into the dark night that so symbolized his past and future it nearly made him want to rip himself apart.

“Tony,” Opal beckoned with her voice low and smooth and everything Ryan didn’t want to hear at this moment of his moral and existential crisis. He slumped against the window, his forehead pressed against the warm glass and his fingers curled into fists against it. He heard the bed shift, and he spoke before she asked a question.

“Ryan,” His voice was quiet, quiet enough that he felt he had to repeat himself, “it’s Ryan.”

The bed shifted again, from her getting off of it. “What?” The smoothness had been replaced by sharpness. Opal was smart; she had grown up next to her gangster brother and could figure out what your intentions were long before you ever knew them. He turned then, eyes searching for her reaction. Her back was rim-rod straight, she was clenching her fists, she had her feet set.

“You know what I said,” was all Ryan replied with, his voice sounding dead to his own ears. She started shaking her head, arms crossing over her chest.

“What does that mean, though?” She asked, her hand coming out to wrap around his arm. Ryan took a step forward and lowered his head down so he could look at her. Her grip was tight, probably fearing the worst. Too bad the worst was the truth.

“I’ve never been Tony Lovetinsky,” Ryan whispered, “I’m not from Alabama, I’m not who I said I am.” Opal’s hand dropped from his arm and her step back was towards her desk. The desk where her phone was. Her lips were curled into a snarl.

“And, what? Were you here to betray us? To stab us in our back?” She demanded, gaze sweeping across the room and avoiding him. He didn’t answer, but his averted gaze was enough for her.

Ryan likes to forget about Oklahoma. Forget about what set him up for the hellish road he traveled now. The hellish road he could never forget or the red up and over his head. The stains traveled far past his hands by now. That night in Oklahoma certainly only added to it, maybe doubled it. What happened next is a blurry series of slideshow pictures in his head. Opal turns to shout, or run, or grab a weapon, Ryan doesn’t know. He’s quicker than her though, always has been, and his arm locks like steel around her middle, his other hand covers her mouth.

“Don’t do that,” he remembers himself saying, though he remembers it as a garble that would come out of the mouth of the monster in a horror movie. She struggled against him, throwing elbows into his side, but he was trained too well. He dragged her backwards and tossed her onto the bed, then stepped back. His hands came up to show surrender.

He’s pretty sure he told her that he was trying to help them, that he had enough resources and money to keep her family out of this life and somewhere safe. That he could move them wherever they wanted to go, but he really doesn’t remember that part. What he does, however, remember is when she yells at him and tells him how he’s ruined her life, and how she should have known that such a bizarre man would be the traitor, that he was going to pay. Opal had grown up with David in the gang life; she was fiercely loyal to it. Ryan didn’t blame her, of course not, he couldn’t. What he could do, though, was react to a gun.

Her aim had always sucked, and when she yanked it out from under her pillow and pointed it, he only blanked and reacted to a gun being pointed. It had been a solid three years straight of gang infiltration and while his nightmares were silent and he never writhed or shouted, they still stuck with him. The ever present fear of death resurfaced and his own pistol was out in a second and his aim had always been better than Opal’s.

After that, he remembers cleaning traces of himself from the scene, remembers slipping on his gloves and making sure he couldn’t be traced back to this. Then he made a call to his alibi guy while slipping out the window and down the fire escape and around the corner with no street camera. Something settled over Ryan after that, a cloth of separation from the others. His own distance was attributed to Opal’s death, and David would sometimes leave him messages about how he’s hurt also, how he should just talk to him. It would help them both, was something David said a lot. The crime was never solved, it incited a gang war in Oklahoma City for those last two weeks Ryan was in town, and then when he dropped his notes, recordings, and pictures off in Atlanta at Marco’s Florence Accounting branch headquarters, he got _the look_ from Marco.

Probably meant they intercepted inquiries about him, they kept the heat off his back.

After Oklahoma, he no longer feared death. He went back to superficial relationships that he could easily chip away like paint. His proficiency rating slid from fastest to average. Raleigh was the next job, Marco had asked him if he needed a break, Ryan had just pulled together a smile and replied that he was fine. It was a nice two year job; he picked up things to cope. Smoking was a nice switch from his mind destroying him to cigarettes ruining his lungs. He was never going to make another Opal-sized mistake again, though Carter in Detroit had edged close to it. Ryan had kept his wits about him then then, and even with the sting it brought he still turned in his documents.

The only person Carter knew was Wesley, anyway, not Ryan.

 

When Ryan’s eyes slid open, it was the way they did after a nightmare. Chest heaving, sweat cooling on his forehead, disoriented. It wasn’t until now that Ryan knew why he was struggling, and it was the lack of separation. In all his other jobs he was someone else, whether it was Tony, Richard, Wesley, or whatever other names he had been given. This one he was just Ryan and they hadn’t even made him change how he looked. He couldn’t rationalize it in a sufficient way to create the eggshell separation layer between him and the rest of the crew. They all knew his name and they all knew how he looked, when he turned them in, they would know who to hate. All others only hated some mythical man with a different name and a different hairstyle. His personas were all different masks he put on to help himself get through it all. And now? Now he was defenseless.

The door cracked, and Ryan realized Gavin had been knocking the whole time. From what he could tell, his hearing had gotten better over the course of the night. Still not great, but it wasn’t half as muddled and while everything still seemed distant, it no longer gave him an awful headache. Gavin opened the door fully after Ryan sat up and waved him in.

“Hey, Geoff’s here to pick us up, so,” Gavin said, gesturing behind him slightly.

“Is he OK?” Ryan replied, running his hands over his face and through his hair. “Did he mention how the rest of the heist went?” Ryan pushed himself up, pocketing the pain medicine he had. Gavin’s arms were looking worse and they were probably going to start really hurting in a few days. He shrugged back at Ryan.

“Dunno, he seems fine,” Gavin was half-way out of the room, “we can ask him more on the drive back to the condo.” Ryan followed after Gavin and waved a goodbye to the doctor, who only nodded at them. As they were approaching Geoff’s truck outside, Ryan squinted and looked around.

“Where’s Ray?” He asked, genuinely confused. His drug-addled head was not crazy enough to hallucinate an entire make-out, Ryan was sure, and he wanted to see if Ray was flustered or anything. The lack of Ray was alarming, partially because it made him doubt that he was even around last night, but also because it meant he wouldn’t be able to see how Ray was feeling. It put him on edge. Gavin climbed into the front seat of Geoff’s truck and shrugged again as Ryan went to the back.

“The doc said Michael came by and picked him up last night,” Gavin said, slumping down in the front seat. Geoff squinted at Ryan in the rearview mirror before turning around completely to look at his ear. Ryan obligingly turned his head in Geoff’s direction so he could see his fucked up ear better. The face he made at it made Ryan roll his eyes, but Geoff just turned forwards again and started the car to head back to the condo.

“You guys didn’t miss much,” Geoff began, “Michael and Jackie had to bail, I ended up making it to the meet-up spot but everyone else was out. I just went back home and waited for everyone to turn up. Michael left sometime last night and didn’t come back, so maybe he and Ray are at one of their safe-houses.” Ryan nodded in response and slumped in the backseat. It was too early and he was still on too many drugs to do too much thinking or worrying. His ear ached vaguely, and the car’s hum was still fairly loud over the conversation from the front of the truck. He had to focus to yank words out of the mush of sounds and listen to what Gavin and Geoff were saying.

“—and then Ray shoved me and I fell out of the fire truck, which fucking hurt,” Gavin recapped from the night before, “and I was pretty in and out because of my concussion but we could hear Ryan yelling. We went over to him then and he looked crazy! Couldn’t hear a damn thing and his face was all torn up. Imagine 10 times as worse as what he looks like now.” Geoff glanced back at Ryan and cringed.

“Nasty, dude,” was all Geoff had to add, fingers drumming impatiently on the wheel as he waited for the light to change. The ride was silent for Ryan after that, because it was hard to casually try and hear quiet conversations when one of your ears is beyond fucked up. The sounds of their voices made it to him but the words were always just out of grip. Definitely had to know that they were talking too quiet for him to hear, or they were unconsciously moving to a lighter volume. Whatever, it probably didn’t pertain to Ryan anyway.

Once back at the condo, Ryan dragged himself in behind the other two; Jackie was waiting at the main floor steps up to the landing for them. She gasped at Ryan’s condition, and went up the steps two at a time to grasp his arm and use her other hand to tilt his face for a better angle of his injury. She frowned, and started moving him towards the kitchen.

“Wow, I’m so sorry. If we’d have known we wouldn’t have left you there,” Jackie babbled, getting him onto one of the barstools and examining his face again, “how does it feel? Can you hear us?”

He grinned and leaned into her palm, Geoff’s scoff from the couch drifting loudly enough over to Ryan. “I’m fine, got some drugs and my hearing is getting better.” Ryan’s voice was placid, and Gavin was making faces at him.

“Jackie, how come you rushed to help him? I’m hurt too,” Gavin pouted, finally stopping his face-making and holding his arms out for emphasis. Jackie rolled her eyes and moved to grip his chin.

“Your wounds will heal, Ryan’s gonna have scars and his ear is always gonna look that fucked up.” Jackie’s tone was solid and she gave Gavin’s head a little shake, which made him grump in discomfort, and then he skulked back around out of the kitchen.

“I appreciate the words, Jackie,” Ryan said, his tone lilting playfully. She grinned at him over the counter and yanked take-out menus out of one of the drawers. She thumbed through them before singling out a menu for a Mexican place down the road, holding it up, her eyebrow raised questioningly. Ryan shrugged and turned to see the other two on the couch.

“How’s Mexican sound?” Geoff’s answering grunt was most likely a yes, and Gavin just gave thumbs up. Jackie smiled again and pulled out her phone. She ordered for them, and then moved around so she could sit on the stool next to Ryan.

“How well can you hear?” Jackie asked, leaning her head on her hand and putting her elbow on the table. Ryan shrugged.

“It’s OK. Sort of iffy at times. Best when in a quiet place.” Ryan replied and settled into a position mirroring hers. Jackie nodded and looked like she was deciding what to say next.

“What was your life like before Los Santos? You have family? Someone you left back in Georgia?” Jackie’s question was innocent and something Ryan had been waiting for them to ask him. The most he ever told anyone was his Atlanta raising and eventual fleeing. And, half of that was a carefully constructed lie. The questions still made fingers of dread curl around his stomach and still made him hesitate. He hoped his hesitation looked like he was sorting through painful memories and not like he was trying to decide if he should construct a new lie or not.

“You know,” Ryan began, one shoulder coming up casually, “haven’t really talked to my family for a few years. Never did like my gang habits.” Not really a lie, he really hadn’t spoken to family in a bit, mostly because he had been on the job for a near constant four years. He frowned and shifted on the stool, eyebrows furrowing.

“Atlanta is nice, sort of crappy, but the people are kind. I never had any long relationships. I don’t know,” he idly felt the stitches on his cheek, “kind of the same as what it’s like here.” This was hardly a lie, also. Atlanta _was_ nice, it was grimy, but charming. Los Santos wasn’t half as charming, but he could pretend. Jackie nodded, and gestured at herself.

“I came from Texas,” the next smile of hers was wistful, “miss that place, it was cool. Los Santos is a lot different.” Ryan mimicked her smile and raked a hand through his hair.

“Why’d you come to Los Santos?” Ryan’s questions were becoming too close too fast. Not for Jackie, but for him. He didn’t need to know this much about her. Jackie was a genuinely nice woman and if he let himself dwell on all that too much he’d started getting doubts again. It was her who kept this team stuck like glue. Geoff may have been the leader, but Jackie kept the people happy.

“I’ve always been gifted with flight and grifting,” Jackie said, moving to examine her nails, “Geoff and I knew each other from some stuff in Austin, Los Santos was the place to be for gangs so we headed here.” Ryan nodded and watched Geoff stand up from the couch and toss the remote at Gavin, who spluttered and only barely caught it. He walked around to Ryan and Jackie and slid an arm over her shoulders; she brought one hand up to pat it. It was painfully domestic. Enough to strike hard right at Ryan’s heart and for one side of his lips to tilt downwards only barely before he policed his expression back to one of neutral contentment.

“And I’ve been gifted with leading and superior plan making.” Geoff grinned and his hand squeezed Jackie’s shoulder. She laughed and wiggled out of Geoff’s grip when the condo was rang, probably the food delivery.

 

 

The next few months passed slowly. Ryan had a reoccurring issue with ear infections and had to keep going back to the doctor to help push his ear recovery along smoothly. At some point, Ray had stopped using his bedroom and told Ryan and Gavin they could have it if they wanted to. Michael had grumbled from the couch about how Ray was being a baby, whatever that was about.

(Distantly, Ryan is pretty sure he missed his birthday along the way, but they never seemed to bother with birthdays here.)

Geoff organized a series of small jobs that helped rake in even more pocket money and allowed some of the more fucked up members, namely Ryan, Ray, and Gavin, stay off the streets. Ray had scoffed at the worry, but Geoff would wrap his arm around Ray’s neck and give the shorter man a noogie. Ray would growl and claw at Geoff’s jacket while Michael threw things at Geoff and crowed about leaving the baby alone. Gavin would laugh a lot and inevitably became the target of Geoff’s attack after Ray gets released because of that obnoxious laugh. Jackie usually would muffle her laughter and then rub Ray’s back sympathetically as he sulked over to Michael and would either lean against Jackie or slump against Michael.

Ryan sometimes felt his obtuseness here, for the weeks that had passed every night he had either dreamed of his mistakes or the mistakes he was dealt. He and Gavin usually traded the room Ray had left behind, though Ryan was pretty close to just heading back to his ratty apartment across from the bar. It was a drive from the condo, but he had his own bed. Sometimes his dreams were just repeats of the same thing over and over. Opal’s face when he closed her eyes, the grin Carter shot Ryan, Wesley, the last time he saw him, his mother’s teary face, his father’s red face, those things would cycle through his head. If he was lucky, he would get something slightly easier to deal with: repeats of moments of violence that he didn’t regret. Shooting opposing gangbangers who had killed a child, shooting gang leaders and helping the kids being drafted into the ranks get out, killing that had a purpose. Those things didn’t make Ryan’s stomach flip and his forehead go slick.

The only thing the dreams of his regrets did was force him to accept the reality of his situation. He couldn’t get too close, these people were practically a family, and Ryan had to integrate, yet stay outside. It made his eye twitch if he thought about it too much, and his hands would get clammy every time he wrote up another note or report or piece of evidence. The Crew was not subtle, careful, or even worried. All things were shared and personal space became a thing of the past.

However, despite the closeness he felt Geoff, Jackie, and Gavin sending his way, it was matched by the chilliness Ray and Michael regarded him with. It was throwing him for a loop. Ray had avoided him since they made the fuck out, and Michael had been sure to say even more backhanded things. In the back of his head, Ryan was slightly worried Ray had told Michael about what happened, which would add to his list of concerns. The last thing Ryan needed was his muddled feelings and constant shame to be stirred even more by Michael in an effort to protect Ray. They were brothers, anyway, as they told the Crew, and Michael said he would save Ray over everyone else. Ray had said loudly that Michael never did any of the rescuing; it was Ray who had to pull Michael’s ass out of the fire. They had bantered for a little, Michael kept repeating Camden over and over, while Ray was protesting and saying that was different. Geoff and Gavin were ignoring them, choosing to focus on the show on the TV. Jackie was laughing at the two brother’s antics, and Ryan was sat on the floor in front of Jackie so she could trim his hair. They weren’t getting very far, and Michael tackling Ray and both of them rolling right off the couch ruined the entire idea anyway.

They thumped against the coffee table, but they were just laughing and pinching each other. Michael’s breath whooshed out of him when he hit the coffee table and Ryan scrambled sideways to avoid any flailing limbs. Geoff kicked a foot out and connected with Ray’s shin, who yelped, and Gavin tossed a remote into the fray. After some loud complaining from Geoff, they separated and sat back on the couch, breathless and smiling.

Gavin was the main troublemaker. The burns on his arms had slowed him down, but he still managed to knock things over or spill stuff just to be a nuisance. Multiple times Geoff would wrestle him to the ground, Gavin squeaking the whole way about his arm pain. Jackie usually broke those up, frowning at both of them and telling Geoff to be mindful of Gavin’s arms. Gavin would taunt Geoff then, and Jackie would spin and tell him off for being so ornery in the first place, which led to a round of pouting and then Michael would crack some jokes and get Gavin going again.

All the relationships were close, Ryan felt like this was a real functioning family sometimes, and he wasn’t sure how he fit in. He and Jackie did all of the cooking and cleaning, he and Geoff would spend long hours talking about their illustrious gangbanging careers, and he and Gavin would get in playful spats. He and Michael…occasionally traded some words, and he wasn’t sure if Michael’s groans of _shut up_ were serious or not. He and Ray were one step above that, usually talking weapons and making jokes. At least it wasn’t inherently awkward anymore, when Ray and Michael had made it back in after the food was already delivered Ray had immediately clammed up and said he needed to go lay down. Michael had trotted after him and they had a hushed conversation before Michael came back and plastered a smile on. It had seemed forced though, and every time Jackie asked about what they did Michael would side-step the question by shrugging and saying they had just gone someplace quieter to try and sleep.

 

When Ryan finally made the move back into his apartment across town Jackie had frowned, Michael had muttered something about having more room here, Gavin had cheered because he got the back room full-time, and Geoff had only shrugged. Ray had chewed on a fingernail and then spoke.

“That’s on the way to my apartment. Would you be up to driving me to and from there?” Ray’s voice went louder so Ryan could hear him over Gavin, and Michael shot Ray a grimace that he didn’t see. Ryan frowned as well, and mentally recalled the map of Los Santos. Ray’s place was, in fact, on the way.

“Don’t you drive?” Ryan asked instead of giving a solid answer. Ryan was standing on the bottom step of the stairs going up to the landing, Jackie and Lindsay had been in the kitchen area, and the rest of the guys on the couches. Ray had stood up when he asked the question, and his fingers were twisting the hem of his t-shirt.

“Well, yeah,” Ray said, a grin pulling at his lips, “I’m just lazy.” Ryan rolled his eyes, but shrugged.

“Sure, I can drive you,” he grunted in response.

 

The next few weeks of the arrangement were awkward. It forced both of them to be together way more often than they had before. The amount of distance they had given each other ever since _that night_ was quickly dissolved after the first day. The drive to Ray’s house was a good 30 minutes if traffic was nice and to Ryan’s was an extra 10 minutes; they had to fill the silence in the car with something. At first, Ray had sputtered out a variety of small-talk starters that Ryan had replied to politely and reciprocated with even more small-talk. It was pathetic, and if anyone had been in the car with them they probably would have sensed the underlying tension between them.

Sometimes, Ray would get in the car and immediately lead off with a heavy question. Ryan would furrow his brows and think about it before answering. Moral questions were usually the ones Ray went for, stuff like: is killing OK, should we shoot for knees and not heads, what about the families of people we kill. Those questions would roll around Ryan’s head and he would tap his fingers on the driving wheel for a solid few minutes while thinking of an answer to spit out. Ray would sometimes argue with him, but typically would nod and move on to an easier conversation.

At some point, this broke down their walls. At some point, the awkwardness between them melted into something nicer. More casual jokes were able to be thrown, they could spend more time together, and it was nice. Whenever Ryan would toss a glance over at Ray in the car for the first few times of the trip he would always have his phone up and was hurriedly texting. Who he was texting, Ryan didn’t know. After the loosening of their relationship, Ryan would glance over and either see Ray just looking out the front of the car or he’d make direct eye contact. Whenever that happened, an electric shock would shoot up his spine and Ryan didn’t know if Ray would look away or not because he always immediately snapped his head back around to focus on the road. And also focus on keeping his breathing at a normal level.

His crush on Ray was getting embarrassing. Every time that little eye contact had been made or every time they knocked hands, or elbows, or shoulders in the car Ryan could feel the heat creep up his throat and just knew his cheeks were at least a little flushed. He hoped that keeping his eyes on the road would stop the other man from noticing, but if the increasing frequency that Ryan’s eyes kept meeting the others was anything, it wasn’t sliding by.

No one in the condo ever seemed to notice, or they did and just didn’t say anything to Ryan about it.

It wasn’t until Christmas Eve that it bubbled over into something else entirely, though.

 

They all pretty much lived together, and they all knew that besides Ray and Ryan they would be hung the fuck over the next day. So, their Christmas party was on Christmas Eve and they never bothered to wait to start opening their presents. Ryan and Ray arrived late, only because they had been tasked with bringing food, and everyone was leaning more towards drunk than sober when they got there. The shouts of excitement when they brought the food in were loud and slurred, but Ryan still grinned at the whole scene. This was nice, this was different from all the other Christmas parties he had been part of with the other gangs and crews. The TV was blaring some cartoon and everyone was sitting on the floor around the coffee table. The tree was pressed up against the wall that was between the living room and the stairs to the lower level, it was casting a glow on the group that rivalled the televisions glow.

Jackie got up and tottered her way over to Ray and Ryan and took some of the food off of them, and led them back over to the coffee table to dump the food on it. It wasn’t anything special, some snack trays and Chinese food and they had also swung by KFC to try and replicate that family meal feeling. Ryan sat to the left of Jackie and Ray squished his way in between Michael and Gavin. Geoff was to the right of Jackie and next to Gavin. They cracked jokes and told stories and ate food and eventually, Geoff stood up and declared it was time for presents.

Geoff went to the Christmas tree and started yanking out the presents under it; Jackie stepped over Ryan to get over there and actually handed out the presents. Gavin got some camera stuff, some gun stuff, and what looked like a gag gift of a 24 pack of tissues. Gavin had looked confused when he opened it, but Ray’s bark of laughter evidently cleared it up and he punched Ray’s shoulder hard. Michael and Ray just started laughing harder. Michael got much the same, except more gun stuff. Ray had gotten him multiple gifts, it looked like, and one was a shit ton of ammunition for his fucking rocket launcher, which Michael had whooped excitedly over, and the others were small things. Michael had opened one, which looked like a tiny photobook, and almost immediately made a whiny noise. He had then wrapped his arms solidly around Ray’s shoulders and pressed their cheeks together, muttering things about Ray being the ‘cheesiest motherfucker ever.’ Ray laughed and tilted them so they fell over; Gavin rolled his eyes at them.

Ray’s presents were various assortments of weed and some much less serious gifts of framed pictures of him doing stuff, which seemed weird but Ray only laughed at them and tucked them with the rest of his gifts. He got some socks and shirts, and a piece of coal that made Ray punch Gavin, who was laughing.

Geoff got a variety of weapons and money and lots of new (and expensive) suits. Jackie got hair accessories, weapons, and clothing. The drinks were starting to go down quicker and heavier, Gavin was swaying and Michael’s words were getting more and more slurred. Jackie and Geoff handled their liquor better than the other two, but they were even starting to get slurry.

Ryan’s gifts were multiple assortments of masks, which was cute, and various cards that had scribbled messages of apologies for probably getting him the same thing everyone else did. It was OK though, Ryan enjoyed the sentiment and they were all rich enough that they could go out and buy whatever they wanted anyway.

Ryan felt happy here, the TV and Christmas tree lighting up the room, the smell of booze, the sounds of multiple people talking over each other, the warmth of the room. It was nice. Ryan hadn’t seen his real family in so long; it was easy to replace them with this family. His stomach knotted painfully with that thought, but Ryan couldn’t bring himself to not think it. This Crew was going to be the death of him, but he was almost welcoming it with open arms.

Leaning back, Ryan stretched his legs out under the coffee table and let his back hit the couch. A slow, content grin spread across his face and he let himself have fun. The past months had been him holding back, had been him afraid, had been him holding the reigns too tight. Why torture himself? Later, he knew he would regret the decision to stop keeping himself at a distance, but for now he would be happy. Live in the here, and in the now, because what did he have after all of this? Not this, a family that he spent Christmas Eve with.

Jackie pinched his side, making him jump and leaned towards him so he could hear her. His hearing was better now, and his ear was pretty much healed, but it was still loud and he struggled sometimes.

“Are you staying here tonight or going back to your apartment?” Jackie asked, Ray was leaning against the coffee table to hear what she was saying around Gavin and Michael. Ryan shrugged and made eye contact with Ray, who jerked his head towards the door and made a motion that Ryan assumed meant later. He furrowed his brows at the other, but nodded.

“Probably heading home,” Ryan reported, eyes moving back to Jackie, “don’t wanna spend all my time around a bunch of hung-over losers, right?” Geoff laughed from besides Jackie, and Jackie just shoved Ryan’s shoulder. He let out his own laugh, and relaxed against the couch again, taking in the scene.

It was another few hours before Ryan gathered up his things and stood, he was hoping and praying that he could avoid any drunk drivers if he left a little earlier than usual, but it was a fairly useless hope. Gavin had fallen asleep at some point, and Michael and Ray were drawing on his face. Jackie and Geoff were leaning close to each other and whispering things Ryan didn’t catch, probably didn’t _want_ to catch, and weren’t paying attention. Michael and Ray both glanced at him when he stood, though Ray was the only one who stopped and started gathering his own stuff. Ryan didn’t say anything, but waited for Ray to stand and head out with him. Before Ray could start walking, however, Michael grabbed a fistful of his jeans and glared up at him. They had a stare off for a few seconds, a silent conversation, before Ray bent and pinched Michael’s cheek, hard.  Michael made a growling noise and batted his hand away, but sank back against the couch anyway. He pouted at Ray until he and Ryan were out of sight around the wall with the Christmas tree.

The walk out of the condo and to Ryan’s car was quiet, but Ryan didn’t really have anything to say. The ride was silent besides a short conversation about the gifts they got and what they got others. It wasn’t until he pulled into the parking lot of Ray’s building that Ray bit his lip and looked at his hand on the door handle with hesitation. He turned to Ryan, eyes narrowed and cheeks looking ruddy.

“How much of the night you got shot do you remember?” Ray intoned, like he was stopping his voice from shaking or cracking.

Ryan should have expected this, he figures. If it was hard on him, then it must have been hard on Ray. Maybe he felt like he had taken advantage of a clearly not well Ryan and had overstepped boundaries. Ryan had assumed he still harbored some embarrassment over it, had concluded one night that that was why he had left with Michael and why he had moved and why he had been rather distant. Also explained Michael’s behavior, but Ryan had never really had anything to back it up with besides his own theories. Until now. Until Ray was sitting in his car with his hands shaking enough that Ryan could see them moving and teeth buried in his bottom lip nervously. He really thought Ryan didn’t remember, or at least was angry about it or something. So, Ryan frowned, and started recounting.

“I remember being shot, you pulling me out from under the ambulance, a car ride, getting to the doctors, don’t remember a ton after the medicine, but,” he hesitated, and licked his lips anxiously, “I remember…” Ryan trailed off at the end, partially scared that it really had been a dream his drugged up mind had fabricated, but Ray was tense and his eyes had moved to staring at the console between them and Ryan was steadied. If Ray was so upset, he clearly remembered the same thing.

“I remember us.” Ryan whispered, and Ray’s head jerked up, worry still placed firmly on his face. They stared at each other for several moments, searching their faces and trying to figure each other out. Later, Ryan would claim he moved first, and Ray would say he moved first, but in truth they moved at the same time and met in the middle somewhere. It was a chaste kiss, testing the waters and calming each other down. After that first press of chapped lips and nasty breath a fire was lit and Ryan had his hands grasping Ray’s face and he was leaning way, way too far over the console. Ray had hit the door of the car and had his hands fisted in the back of Ryan’s shirt and was making little moans of sounds that shot straight through Ryan to his gut and lower.

Ryan’s head was spinning, Ray’s mouth was so hot and he felt like he was going to dissolve into this kiss right here and never come back. Ray’s hands were pressing him closer and closer and Ryan was in an incredibly uncomfortable position but he could drown all of that out by just licking into Ray’s mouth and closing his eyes tight. When Ray pulled back on his jacket, Ryan backed up a little, he had to throw one of his hands out onto the dashboard to keep himself from falling, but he didn’t otherwise move away. Their chests were heaving and Ray’s breaths were blowing across Ryan’s face and it was all so much. Ray leaned around Ryan and looked at how he was positioned. Ryan’s pelvis was awkwardly placed on the console and his legs were just as awkwardly braced against the door. Ray laughed, and let his head fall back against the window.

Ryan moved forward to press kisses to his jaw and neck, listening to the rumbles of his breathy moans, it didn’t last long, though, Ray sat up and his chest collided with Ryan’s face, who spluttered and backed up. Ray pushed him the rest of the way into his seat, and hesitated, but then maneuvered himself so he was in the driver’s seat with Ryan, straddling him.

“Wait,” Ryan grunted, leaning and pushing the seat back from the wheel as far as possible. This kind of make-out position was not designed for two well-muscled dudes. Ryan had to tilt his head up so Ray could kiss him, if Ray leaned back even a little his ass would hit the horn, and seeing how it was the middle of the night on Christmas Eve, they wanted to avoid that kind of ruckus. Ryan was half-hard and every time Ray even slightly brushed his dick Ryan had to let Ray swallow his groans and his hands were tight on Ray’s hips, keeping himself under control. This kiss was hotter than the last two, probably because this position was more comfortable and it switched the power balance. The kiss was everything he dreamed of, their tongues hitting each other and Ray’s hands buried in his hair and sometimes Ryan would move his mouth away and kiss down Ray’s neck and suck a hicky to a spot, Ray would make the most delicious noise at that, a noise that washed through Ryan and, at this point, put him at fucking hard as hell.

It was slightly embarrassing, Ryan was not a stranger to sex or making out but it had been a long time, damnit. Ray kept rubbing Ryan’s boner with his own or his ass and Ryan wasn’t sure if it was fully intentional or not because Ray hadn’t seemed that interested in boners this whole time and had mainly only focused on the kissing but Ryan was about to come in his own pants like high school all over again and he really, really didn’t need that. Another brush of Ray’s ass made Ryan grunt and jerk, his fingers digging hard into Ray’s hips to stop him from moving, and he buried his face into the others chest so he could gain some kind of control over his boner and his mind. No need to come right now from only making out and some possibly accidental frotting.

Ray’s chest was heaving even more than Ryan’s was and his hands were settled on Ryan’s shoulders, but they were back to shaking. This alarmed Ryan a little, was he doing something wrong? Did Ray not want this? Was it too fast? Curse his damn boner and his nonexistent Los Santos sex life for making him pop a chubby from so little in the first place. Once he had himself under some sort of control, Ryan tilted his head back and looked at Ray. Ray was staring out the back window and his jaw was clenched, his hands were still shaking, too.

“What’s wrong?” Ryan asked, loosening his hands from Ray’s hips and moving them to rest on his lower back. “Are you OK, do we need to stop?” Ryan added on after a second, at that Ray glanced down at Ryan and looked like he was searching his face for something. Ray was something else. His glasses were askew, his lips were swollen, and his cheeks were redder than before. Finally, Ray slumped and muttered something, Ryan didn’t catch it, but it didn’t matter because that slump had moved Ray just enough that his ass finally made contact with the horn and the resulting honk nearly made them jump out of their skin. Tumbling out of the truck and into the chilly Los Santos December air, Ryan rubbed his mouth and leaned towards Ray.

“What’d you say?” Ryan asked, a hand pressing against Ray’s lower back. Ray bit his lip and looked at the ground, and then his building, and then the ground again, and then the car, and anywhere else that wasn’t Ryan. Finally, he leaned in closer, and with his mouth pressed against Ryan’s ear, he said it again.

“I’m asexual.” Ray’s voice trembled over those two words, and he immediately took a step back and crossed his arms over his chest defensively. Ryan nodded.

“OK.” And then they stared at each other. Ray looked like he was expecting more and all Ryan wanted to do was kiss more.

Ryan wasn’t an intolerant or mean man. If Ray said he was asexual, then OK. Sex wasn’t the most important thing in the world and all Ryan wanted was to have Ray close to him. Long ago Ryan had learned how to ignore his dick and think rationally and he wasn’t some sex-crazed monster who only looked for the next hole to stick it in. Asexuality wasn’t a problem to him, if he absolutely had to he could get his rocks off in the shower. It wasn’t a big deal.

The silence went on for an uncomfortable amount of time, and Ryan’s arms were starting to goose bump. “Can I stay at your place tonight?” Ryan asked, spinning the keys in his hand. “I don’t mean that in a sex way. I’ll even sleep on the couch if you prefer,” he hastily tacked on, and Ray grinned, moving forward to wrap his arms around Ryan’s neck. They kissed again, another chaste one, and then Ray pulled away to grab the taller man’s hand and drag him into the building and up the elevator to his apartment. The rest of the night was pleasant, they kissed and laid next to each other and kissed more and spooned and eventually fell asleep.

Ryan had a lot of doubt swimming through him. There was two ways this could go, Ray being hurt and betrayed forever, even possibly dead, or Ryan taking Ray with him. The nightmare that roused Ryan in the morning was a reliving of what happened in Oklahoma like some sort of foreboding precognition and Ryan had never felt so sick in his life. Sitting up, Ryan rubbed his face desperately to try and clear the haze of the nightmare out of his head. Ray had stirred, because his hand was under Ryan’s shirt and stroking his lower back in a little circle.

“Nightmares?” Ray’s question was drawled out; he had only just woken up. Ryan nodded, and smiled at Ray before looking at the clock.

“It’s fine. Can I use your shower?” Ryan stood up and stretched, making his back crack. Ray waved a hand and buried himself back into his pillow.

“Please do.” Ray’s voice was muffled and he sounded like he was asleep again. Ryan laughed and flipped the bird towards the cocooned lump on the bed. Ray didn’t see it, but Ryan was sure he knew he had done it.

He was only halfway through his shower when he heard the lock on the front door tumble and the door swing open with enough force to bang against the wall. The bedroom door shut then also, and Michael’s voice boomed through the apartment.

“Ray! Why’s Ryan’s truck outside? Is he here?” Michael was loud, and it was a wonder he didn’t have the worst hangover ever right now. The crinkly noises after that meant Michael had probably gotten food for the two of them. Well. Ryan could just leave, he had Ray’s number.

“He’s in the shower. He crashed on the couch because we had just watched two drunk drivers nearly destroy each other.” Ray replied, the bedroom door opening and his words got louder and clearer as he walked by the bathroom door. The rest of his shower Ryan couldn’t hear their words, only their voices. It sounded like very urgent whispering though. But, if that little bit of conversation Ryan had caught meant anything, it was that the relationship was being hidden, or was hidden from Michael. That confused Ryan. He understood why, but it didn’t explain some of their behavior. Why was Michael so damn hostile if he didn’t know what happened between them? Ryan shoved that out of his brain and finished his shower. Drying off his hair and body, he pulled on his clothes from last night and looked at himself in the mirror. No visible hickies to have to hide from anyone, and he looked normal. Good. The two brothers in the other room had lowered their voices even more once the water shut off, and when Ryan opened the door they were just standing in the kitchen and leaning towards each other like they were sharing secrets. Ryan put on his best smile and dropped the towel he used in the laundry bin and walked over to them so he could grab his keys.

Michael had sunglasses on and was dressed in just some grey sweats and a blue sweatshirt. He must have actually been totally hung over. His curly hair looked flat and like he slept on one side of it really heavily. Ray was in a sweater and jeans and had a casual scarf wrapped around his neck. (Because Ryan had definitely left some hickies there.)

“I only brought enough for two, didn’t know you’d be here. Sorry,” Michael sniffed, Ray rolled his eyes and pinched Michael’s arm. He was just batted away though, and Michael sent a glare towards Ray.

“It’s fine, I was planning on getting out of Ray’s hair anyway,” Ryan replied casually, swinging his keys around his finger. “Is Geoff at the condo? Functional Geoff, that is.” Michael tapped his chin thoughtfully for a bit, thinking of a reply.

“I don’t think so. Jackie’s there and she’s fine.” Michael suggested, and begun digging stuff out of the bag of food he had. Ryan nodded and went to the door. While behind Michael’s back he made the call me signal to Ray, who only nodded. Then, he was out.

 

It was only a month, a ton of goodnight and good morning kisses, subtle brushes of skin, everyone being cleared in the health department, and some planning later that the next heist was beginning. Ryan had taken the lead on this one, his first big test. Everyone had laughed and said his plan was way too long, and, maybe it was? He was just going for the gold.

Yanking the steering wheel sideways, Ryan stopped the armored truck in its tracks. Geoff’s car blocked off the path behind it, and Jackie confirmed she was nearby with Michael and Gavin. Of course, Ryan hadn’t braced himself for the armored truck to be so damn insistent and willing to fight its way out, and nearly busted his damn head on the window when it slammed him. His resulting grunt was heard by Geoff who hit the side of the armored truck, annoyed. Jackie and the rest of the air team were bickering, and Ryan could feel his nerves prickling anxiously.

“Come on, where are you guys?” Ryan ground out, keeping himself braced so if the armored truck tried another ramming technique he wouldn’t nearly kill himself.

“Calm down, we’re just around the bend.” Jackie’s voice was soothing and she was right, they showed up within seconds. Sweeping low, Michael attached a line to himself and repelled out of the side of the Cargobob, he landed heavily on the top of the truck and grabbed the winch. Ryan was at an angle that he could no longer see the men inside the truck, but if the gunshots coming from Geoff’s car meant anything than they had just about tried to intervene. Michael stuck the winch to the top, and because of some special modifications, it crunched the top of the truck into a fist-like hold.

Yanking on his line, Michael stood away from the winch. “Bring me back up,” and Gavin’s acknowledgement of the command was quiet as he started hauling the line back up. Michael shouted at Jackie to go, and go they did. Geoff hoped cars, for whatever reason, and they took off after the Cargobob.

There was always a place in these heists where it went absolutely straight to shit. This was that moment. The comm couldn’t be more loud and overwhelming. Jackie was shouting about how heavy the truck was, and they were flying very low, Michael was shouting at Gavin for not shooting better, Gavin was shouting about the helicopters around the Cargobob, Ryan was shouting at them about calming down and shooting the pilots and the only relatively quiet ones were Ray and Geoff. Geoff had broken the passenger window and was trying to assist in shooting the helicopters down. Ray would interject every now and then about how they weren’t even close.

So, it was no surprise it went as far south as it possibly could. Michael exploded one of the helicopters, two blocks later Geoff and Ryan watched the smoking Cargobob drop the truck, ascend into the clouds, and then heard them on the comms saying they were going to parachute out. Gunning it, Geoff nearly toppled over into the backseat as Ryan dissolved the space between where the truck was dropped and them.

“The jump--!” Geoff shouted, hands curling to the bottom of the seat to try and hold himself to it. Ryan only pressed the pedal to the floor and white-knuckled the steering wheel to make the car line up with the opening on the bridge.

“Hold on!” Ryan all but roared over the sound of the car’s engine and the sirens rapidly approaching. They hit the jump hard, Geoff hollered the whole way and bounced hard enough to hit the ceiling of the car. Ryan had lifted up off the seat, but had used all of his muscles possible to keep himself in control of the vehicle. Slamming the gas and spinning the car around, which nearly tossed Geoff right out the window he had broken, Ryan put the pedal to the metal again to get to the armored truck. Michael and Gavin and Jackie were still on the comm, he knew because he could hear the air rushing through theirs. Ray was spluttering about what the hell to do now, and Geoff and Ryan were sat staring at the busted up armored truck.

“Guess we oughta pop it,” Ryan pondered, prying his fingers off the wheel and glancing at Geoff. Geoff nodded and reached down for his gun.

“No other thing we could do,” Geoff said, and then they were quite brutally interrupted when a cop car pulled up in front of them around the armored truck and absolutely unleashed hell. The ripping and cracking noises that filled the cabin of the car were horrifying on a new level, and Ryan had the brief thought as a bullet shredded through his shoulder that this was how he was going down. Another several rounds into the car before it stopped, and the cops were yelling things but Ryan couldn’t hear it over the ringing in his ears. Glancing down, he had only been shot three times. Once in his left shoulder, another in his right hip, and the last in his right thigh. Well, fuck. A long look at Geoff and he could almost immediately tell that Geoff had been nowhere as lucky as him. Multiple shots to the stomach and at least one to the chest, he couldn’t tell how his legs were. Almost as if on cue, Ryan’s door was wrenched open and a hand reached in and roughly yanked him out.

Ryan was a lot of things: reactive, active, intense, brutal, efficient. Laying on the street and looking up into the muzzle of a cop’s gun was not something he had ever dealt with often. In fact, he usually was the best at avoiding it.

Back in his younger days, Ryan was one of the most brutal men of all the gangs he had been in. He held no remorse and held no doubts. Looking back on it now, it was just another mask he could slip on and masquerade around. Looking into this gun muzzle and feeling the hand of the officer start lift off his mask did something to Ryan. Whatever moral lessons he had learned in Oklahoma and in Raleigh were tossed out the window in a millisecond of his need to fight and his need to live kicked into hyper drive and that same killing mask he had always used when ripping through towns pulled down over his brain. It fit into place like an old glove, comfortingly familiar and carefree. Ryan’s hand whipped up and he knocked the gun straight out of the officer’s hand. Los Santos had the worst cop force in the nation, and Ryan had mowed through hundreds of cops before these in this shitty town.

The cop went to yank backwards, but Ryan only wrapped his hand tight around the other’s wrist, his other hand sliding up and getting a good grip in the blonde hair of the officer. Time slowed down, and Ryan felt like he was watching himself push through solely on adrenaline and use all of his leverage to slam the cop’s head into the pavement. It bounced and the officer let out a warning yell, but Ryan only had to use one more hard pound to shut him up. Scrambling to the car on his hands and knees, Ryan yanked one of his automatic guns out, dully, he noticed Geoff was outside and on the other side of the car. Cops that were now staring at Ryan were next to him. He didn’t hesitate.

Ryan rarely missed and he rarely made mistakes. “You got a natural talent, kid,” Samuel, the crime boss in Kansas City, had laughed at him. He had just single-handedly held down the drug house from a S.W.A.T. raid and Samuel had come back to the house expecting to find it streaming with cops. It had been littered with bullet holes and there was definitely plenty of blood saturating the street and the steps and the deck of the house, but S.W.A.T. was no longer there. Samuel had grinned a toothy grin and made Ryan his right-hand man on the spot. That had been an easier job. Kansas City was only hard because the cops were so persistent; otherwise the entire gang had been easy to figure out and easy to get into the good graces of.

Pulling that past around him Ryan’s entire persona changed. It was easy to slide into the cockiness of Denton Appleton, or Tony Lovetinsky, or any of the other names he had paraded around in those years of no regrets and fast lives. His shots destroyed the cops on top of Geoff, and Ryan struggled to push himself to his feet. His hip was screaming, his thigh was no better. Adrenaline kept him going though, and he mechanically killed the rest of the cops that were starting to show up. He wasn’t counting, but when the flow of cops had slowed down to nothing, Ryan glanced around and snatched his earbud up and pushed it back into his ear. Must have fallen out when he got towed out of the car. Clearing his throat loudly, Ryan hobbled to the armored truck door and shot it open.

“I’ve got the money. Ray, you still on the parking garage?” Ryan’s own voice threw him for a loop for a second. It was flat and he sounded like an entirely different person to himself. Oh well. Ryan looped his arm through the guns straps so he could grab money bags; he went back and forth tossing them into the car. Finally, Ryan stood over Geoff and took in the situation. Geoff kept coughing, and he was saying something over and over but Ryan was listening to Ray reply over the comm.

“Jesus Christ, Ryan, what the hell happened?” Ray nagged, and Ryan bent so he could start pulling Geoff into the car.

“Well, we got shot at a lot. Geoff’s pretty damn hurt. Should I come to you or you come to me?” Ryan said, his frown plastered on and his hip and thigh really bugging him. His shoulder was easy to ignore, his entire lower right side, however, was not.

“I’ll come get Geoff. Ray, come to Ryan and then you two split with the money,” Michael piped up, “I need to take Gavin and Jackie to the doctor anyway.”

The plan was set in motion then, Ryan starting the fucked up car and driving to an underpass to hide at while he waited. The few minutes he had to wait Ryan mainly went to work on trying to bandage Geoff’s wounds. At some point, Geoff pushed his hands away and his breath bubbled in a way that made Ryan’s chest hurt and his hands curl.

“You’re—“ Geoff coughed, “you’re one scary—motherfucker, you know that?” Ryan only grimaced and opened the door on Geoff’s side as Michael pulled up. It wasn’t until just then Ryan considered how he might look. His mask was probably blood splattered, he had a hole in his shoulder, blood on his jacket, holes in his thigh and hip, and his hands were stained with more than Geoff’s blood. At some point, Ryan had wrapped his thigh wound, mainly because it was the one that bothered him the most and the one most likely to, you know, actually kill him. Getting out of the car on his side, Ryan limped around the car to help Michael with Geoff. Or, he was going to, before Michael took one sweeping glance at him and recoiled.

“Holy fuck, Ryan. Jesus. Are you OK?” Michael had moved so he could reach out for Ryan, but he only sidestepped the grip and gestured to Geoff.

“He’s dying,” was all Ryan replied with, before Michael bit his lip and nodded. Together they got Geoff into the truck next to Jackie, who had a broken leg from the looks of it. “Sorry,” Ryan croaked, before shutting the door. Ray pulled up on a bike then, and took one look at Ryan before making a very ridiculous gasping noise. Ryan merely held his hand up and motioned for Ray to jump into the car.

Michael went the opposite way of them, and at this point Ryan and Ray were only going to the subway because it’d be an easier place for Ryan to lay low for an hour or two so the city would chill out. Keep a low profile and all that. The drive helped relax Ryan’s shoulders and he mentally peeled back the mask of his youth and tried to slide back into just being Ryan. Very little conversation was exchanged mainly short quips about how much money they had and some jokes about subways.

The two hours Ryan and Ray loitered in the subway tunnels were spent mostly with Ray looking at Ryan’s wounds and trying to treat them as best as he could. Their comms had been turned off a while ago, and that was the only real reason Ryan let Ray kiss him and let Ray’s hands cradle his head gently. The kiss tasted unpleasant, Ryan wasn’t that into it and his whole being felt like it was being ripped at the seams. He just needed a good 12 hours of sleep, was what he told himself and Ray. He passed out after that, and Ray had to carry his dead weight back to the streets and drive him to the doctor. Ryan felt bad about that, but they had split the money between everyone already so it wasn’t like there was anything else they could do.

 

The next few days were especially hazy for Ryan, he was on one of the couches and Geoff was on the other, Crew members came and went from the area frequently, but Ryan could never pull himself together enough to become fully conscious. Small spats off to the side would sometimes draw him out of it enough for him to look around and see who was talking, before he was out again.

It was five days after the heist that he was able to fully wake up and take everything in. His right side felt like shit, his shoulder felt like shit, his head felt like shit. Jackie had clapped excitedly from the barstools when Ryan sat up, and she ran over and hugged him tight. After that, Gavin, Michael, and Ray would show up and ask him how he was. It was weird. Surely, they had to have some idea of the fucking carnage he had laid upon the LSPD. They must be confused by how rapidly he had switched from being normal in terms of shoot-out skills to taking out a good damn quarter of the police force. No one said anything until the fourth day he was up and walking around.

“How did you take out so many guys?” Gavin inquired, his salad sitting in front of him on the counter and his eyes trained straight at Ryan.

Ryan shrugged. “Luck, I guess,” it was the only answer he could really give; besides saying stuff about how he did that kind of stuff in Atlanta.

Gavin had frowned, but nodded. And he knew when Gavin told the others because they looked at him less from the corner of their eyes and relaxed a little. They must have thought he was some super-villain or something.

 

Of course, the drama didn’t really start until Geoff was up and walking and getting healthy again. He was bandaged up and he still needed a lot of healing time, but it was better than just laying on the couch knocked out all day.

They were all sat on the couch, staring at a map of Los Santos and contemplating what kind of heist to do next when Michael’s fist hit the coffee table, his fist crumbling an edge of the map.

“I knew Ryan’s plan was too much, there was no way we’d be able to finish that!” Michael exclaimed, his finger pointing at Ryan. Geoff stayed silent, his eyes trained on the map. Gavin was glancing back and forth between Ryan and Michael.

“It could have been a good plan—“ Ryan was interrupted by Michael’s loud and obnoxious groan. He had slumped and was dragging his hands down his face.

“Oh, _please_. I think,” Michael sat up and his words were as sharp as his anger, “that Ryan has something he isn’t telling us. That plan was complex. He took out more men then should be possible of some—some—Atlanta 30-something who has only ever been in one gang!” Ray’s hand grabbed Michael’s arm hard then, and he whispered something between them, which made Michael bury his face in his hands again, his anger almost visible.

Ryan wasn’t able to get a word in edgewise before Geoff continued on with Michael’s statements. “I’ve never seen someone so effortlessly destroy so many groups of cops like that,” his tone had slid slightly towards awe, but hardened as he continued. “I thought you were going to turn that gun on me. I’ve never seen someone switch gears so solidly like that before.” Ryan ran a hand through his hair distractingly, thinking of ways to play it all off.

“Look, I’m just good with guns. Atlanta is as tough a place as any other. Some of us just have affinities for some things,” It wasn’t a full explanation, but it mollified Geoff. It was practically the truth, too. “Also, I’m only 28. Not 30.” Ryan added on last minute, feeling the need to defend his age.

“And, we trusted this to him! He’s been in this Crew the shortest and look what happened! He could have been trying to get us all killed!” Michael’s ranting was accompanied with lots of hand-talking, and Geoff leaned away to avoid getting hit.

“Isn’t that our fault?” Jackie asked, and then Ray spoke after her. “And he could have killed Geoff, but didn’t. And if what he did with those cops is anything, he could have killed any of us at any time.” Jackie nodded at Ray’s words, and Michael breathed heavily through his nose.

“Fine,” It was huffed, and Michael stood up afterwards and kicked Ray’s and Gavin’s legs out of the way. When he got around the back of the couch he leaned over it so he could whisper in Ryan’s ear. “There’s a reason no one has ever betrayed us before,” it was the chilliest Ryan had ever felt, those words sliding down his spine and his brain nearly kicked up to overdrive to consider what he meant. Jackie’s hand on his arm was what reeled him back out of his head.

“It’s OK. We believe you,” she coaxed, and Ryan just nodded his head.

 

Outside of Ray’s apartment building, the car was chilly and quiet.

“He’s just really loyal to us,” Ray began, but Ryan held up his hand.

“I get it, I’m not mad at him,” Ryan wouldn’t add how he couldn’t be mad anyway; Michael was almost exactly on the mark.

They didn’t part with a kiss that night, just a hand squeeze.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> phew, sorry! this was supposed to be out saturday (im gonna try and get them out on saturdays!!) but i got TWO ear infections and couldn't even think well enough to write something coherent. i stopped proof-reading around the last 2k of this chapter, major apologies (especially since i already fixed 3 mistakes while scanning it for a summary quote)


	4. will all great Neptune's ocean wash this blood clean from my hand?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The solution was to light the table on fire, right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well, the heists officially are in a different order at this point! this is jack's heist, not michael's. also, some of this came off super sexual innuendo but trust me, lol, they aint havin sex srry. some implied drug use in this one + more violence :* take care!

Ryan did his push-ups in bed today, hovering over Ray and planting a kiss to his nose every time he went down. It was making Ray laugh, and he kept trying to kick Ryan’s feet out so he’d fall. It was a pleasant morning. It had taken a few months for Ryan to fully slip back to himself, for Ryan to slip back into wanting to share time with others. His nightmares had increased in frequency those few months, and now that he was relatively normal again they were starting to go down again.

Ryan’s shoulder burned, and his right leg was hardly better. Ray had given up a few days ago on trying to make Ryan chill out and not work his shoulder and leg, but Ryan wasn’t the kind of man to sit still. He was having a limp problem, and it was really fucking up his persona. Jackie would frown and tell him to stop trying to do too much, he was going to make his limp worse, but it had barely rattled around Ryan’s head. Geoff was slightly better off, his chest and stomach were coming along well and he hadn’t, in fact, gotten shot anywhere lower.

They had made up, Ryan slipping his hand into Geoff’s and saying he was sorry, Jackie and Ray talking quietly to each other at the counter. Geoff had smiled, and it had shown teeth, and gripped the other’s hand tightly.

“At least we know who can salvage a hopeless situation,” Geoff said, and Ryan mirrored his grin. Geoff and Ryan were a weird dynamic. They didn’t quite know what to make of the other, but knew they were both good. Ryan could protect Geoff’s back, and Geoff could protect Ryan’s back. Of course, the irony of it always rang sharp in Ryan’s head. But, they trusted one another. Geoff was the leader for a reason, and it was because he was a superb crime lord. Something Ryan was grossly acquainted with, Geoff was by far his favorite crime lord. Most of the inner power levels, the people on the street and those who worked in the downstairs condo, were managed by Geoff and Jackie. That’s it. As careless and sloppy they were this was the only thing that Ryan struggled with. It would take some serious digging and surveillance and other skills to get the details of it all down.

Gavin and he shared a rather antagonistic relationship, although it was mainly just teasing. Near constant ribbing and playful arguing kept them close and it was a nice relief to have someone so relaxed around him. Jackie was as caring as ever, but Ryan figured she was guilty over Michael’s outburst still. Her mothering of Ryan was damn near suffocating, especially since he wasn’t that far behind her in age and didn’t need the mothering like Gavin did.

Michael’s contempt hadn’t really lightened. He was cordial enough around Ryan, but he still tended to be hostile. It wouldn’t be so worrying if, for starters, Ryan _wasn’t_ an actual legitimate backstabber, and second, he wasn’t all but fucking his brother. It made his jaw clench and made his eyes twitch and added a ridiculous amount of stress for him. Watching your every step was hard, and especially difficult to do when you don’t know what could incriminate you in their eyes. And, you could never get to be comfortable in your sorta-boyfriend’s apartment because his brother who was looking for any reason to beat you up had the key and could barge in at any time. Plus, Ray refused to ever go to Ryan’s place. His excuse was good, if Michael showed up and Ray wasn’t here he would flip the hell out, but sometimes, it would have been easier to just crash at Ryan’s.

Pushing that aside, Ryan dropped himself on top of Ray, who grunted. “Get off me, you weigh like, 400 pounds,” Ray’s arms pushed weakly at his sides, trying to push Ryan off. Ryan grinned and wrapped his arms around Ray and buried his face against the smaller man’s neck. If his fingers wiggled against Ray’s sides and tickled him on purpose, Ryan wouldn’t admit it. The resulting shout and laugh made Ryan grin. It was easy to forget about his reservations, multiple moral questions, beliefs, and how he was blatantly breaking his own rules when it was like this. When he was with Ray in a rather shitty apartment in the middle of drug peddling country, Ryan could let himself go a little.

Ray was deadly. Every time Ray shot, he killed. He never missed, and he never wasted his own time. Ray had been one of the youngest drug lords in Los Santos, and it was really no surprise. It didn’t matter if he was working with someone or not, he was enough of a force he could probably do an entire heist on his own. Maybe that’s what made Ryan look in his direction, what made Ryan drawn to him. Nothing like a little danger, right? Ray’s fist fighting skills left something to be desired, but he usually never needed to get in hand to hand combat situations and made sure he stayed away from them. That’s what made him and Michael such a good team. Where Ray was good at long-distance, good at plans, good at keeping his head straight, Michael was good at close-range, good at mowing his way through the plans given to him, good at letting his anger take him where he wanted it to.

It was weird, their relationship. Forged in fires that Ray won’t share and Ryan wouldn’t dare question Michael about, all Ryan knows is they’re half-brothers, they grew up together, and they travel together. Some nights Ray would say he hasn’t been separated from Michael since the moment they met. Ryan doesn’t know if it’s true, if it is, it only attests to how strong the relationship was. Whenever they weren’t out in public they were wildly affectionate, their street reputation was just that they were dangerous and they were clones of the same person. Well, everyone just thought they were clones because of how alike they were, some days Ryan felt inclined to believe it. When they’re at the condo together they’re always sitting near each other or always telling inside jokes or always ribbing each other. Whenever Geoff or Jackie gets angry at one of them, they’ll start doing this thing where they’ll say the exact same thing at the same time. Whatever argument, it didn’t matter. They’d do it just to creep Gavin out, too.

In another time, Michael and Ryan probably would have been fine friends. In another time, one where Ryan isn’t spending nights with Michael’s brother they would have been great friends. Ray would never say it, he loved Michael too much to ever point out his flaws to others, but Michael had jealousy issues. Bad, bad jealousy issues.

“Michael is jealous,” Ryan said one night, his nose buried in dark hair and his arms wrapped around Ray.

“No,” Ray insisted, his breath warming Ryan’s chest, “he’s just protective.” Ryan had dragged a hand hard up Ray’s spine, humming low in his throat.

“If you say so,” Ryan ended tartly, and Ray’s teeth clicked together with how hard he gritted his teeth. His tone hadn’t meant to be so sharp, but it’s what happened. When someone was nothing but sour to you for months, it becomes hard to like them.

Ray pushed up and out of Ryan’s arms, and Ryan relaxed onto his back with his arms spread out, Ray had only moved up to his knees. A finger pointed accusingly at Ryan’s face. “He is my brother,” Ray ground out, “don’t judge him, you don’t know him.” Ryan blew out a heavy sigh and closed his eyes. When he opened them, Ray still had his hand pointed at his face and his eyes were narrowed.

“Sorry,” Ryan offered, and Ray just grabbed Ryan’s arm and tossed it over and onto his chest so he could lay on his side facing away from Ryan with a respectable distance.

A lot of their conversations went like that if Michael was brought in. Ryan’s chest would hurt, because Michael was in the right here. If this was a movie Ryan would be the antagonist. He was the intruder, the spy, the backstabber. Yet, here he was. Giving Ray a hard time about his brother being rightfully suspicious and rightfully distrustful. It felt backhanded, it felt dirty. He couldn’t stop himself from doing it though; he was spiteful that he had to watch himself so carefully. He tried to dial it back, he really did, but somehow it would slide by his otherwise perfect filter. Ray tolerated it gracefully, which Ryan was beyond grateful for. He assumed that Ray got plenty of shit from Michael about them hanging out, anyway.

Ryan had been kissing along Ray’s jaw while he was thinking, but the sudden stillness under him snapped him back to the present. “Wha—“ Ryan was cut off by Ray actually putting some muscle into pushing him off and grabbing a shirt off the floor to yank on.

“I think Michael’s here,” Ray blurted, and kept going to ride over whatever Ryan was going to say, “I heard his truck. Take a blanket to the couch and make it look like you were crashing there.” Ryan creased his brows, but nodded and did as instructed. The bedroom door shut after Ryan flopped onto the couch and made it look like he was sleeping. Ray was probably tidying up the bedroom and making sure there was no evidence of Ryan and him together.

A few minutes later, the front door locks tumbled and Michael came in.

His gaze drifted over Ryan briefly, but he just tightened his lips and walked through to Ray’s room. No knock, just straight in. Ryan heard the squawk Ray made through the door, and then both of their voices were lowered. Pushing himself up, Ryan rubbed his face. Now was one of those times he realized he was still the newest to the group. People were always having those hushed conversations around him. It sort of made him feel like some kind of child, but also annoyed him to no end. When it happened, it came off like they were taking advantage of his obvious difficulty. Ever since he had been shot everyone had to be louder. Everything had to be louder.

Multiple times he would be sitting on the couch in the condo with the others and just staring at the TV. It was making words and he was just barely catching them. It’s not like it was distant, it was there and he knew it was there, his ear just wasn’t good enough to catch the wave. So, he just sat there. Staring at the screen and trying to see if he can make out what’s happening. Eventually, Ray or Jackie would catch on to his blank look at turn the TV up and say they were the ones who couldn’t hear, and send him a glance that was a mix of something that made Ryan defensive and angry. Those times hurt his pride, he didn’t need pity.

They all were aware of his difficulties. How long they thought they could get away with lowering their voice to a level he couldn’t quite catch and moving to his bad side to continue the conversation, Ryan didn’t know. No way they weren’t aware that he was aware of what they were doing. The multiple times he would purposely move closer and turn to his good side must be letting them know.

Nervous, cold fingers would settle on him whenever someone lowered their voice around him. As if he wasn’t already walking on eggshells around everyone, now he had to worry they were having secret conversations about him? It made him uneasy, pissed, discarded. None of them avoided it; they all fell into doing it. He didn’t want to call them out on it, he could be misinterpreting, but damn was it really getting to him. The more he noticed it the more he could feel the prickles along his arms and the waves of numbness settle over his brain, the numbness that slid in place for violence. Soon, he would crack. Soon, something had to happen.

The domesticity of the Crew could only last so long. The eight years of gang infiltration had taught Ryan nothing less. In every single town he had been to there had been at least one shake-up, even if he had only been there for a few months. This crew he had been with for a year, and yet the peace pervaded. Geoff’s grip over everyone had to be part of it, Ryan could only surmise as much, his sharp words and targeted violence kept people in reign. All of the tales Geoff would tell over the lip of his bottle were of his adventures in other towns with his other crew and how he had killed this person, or how he had destroyed that organization. The young of the Crew, Michael, Gavin, and Ray, all held a great deal of respect for Geoff. Michael and Ray who were arguably better than Geoff still differed to his experience, Gavin who was as bumbling as he was useful, was grateful to Geoff for keeping him around.

Jackie and Geoff’s relationship was that of people who never knew not being close to each other. How they knew each other was still a mystery to Ryan, they had both known each other in Texas, but that was as far back and as precise the tale went. If Ryan had to rank the crew based on danger level, Jackie and Geoff would be closely ranked. Something like this: Ray (always, he was too good,), Michael, Geoff (not-drunk), Jackie, Geoff (drunk), Gavin. The only person who could handle Geoff in all of his melancholy and contrasting exuberance was Jackie; she was the one whose hand on Geoff’s shoulder was enough to make him take it down a notch. Gavin would always ask when they were getting married, Geoff would always tackle him.

(Ryan wasn’t crazy when he saw how wistful their eyes would be the rest of the day after those kinds of comments.)

But, all of this only unnerved Ryan more. If their blowout hadn’t happened yet, what would it look like when it did? The more months ticked by the more Ryan worried that _he_ would be the only reason the Crew would unsettle. Squabbles in crews and gangs were not dealt with well, usually. This Crew seemed to bypass the whole thing by not having fights. Not serious ones anyway, and the animosity between him and Michael was the most tense thing to have happened to them. Ever. Full-stop.

That was exactly what made the guilt pump back through his veins and head and being. He was the common denominator in all of their problems. How long would it take them to figure that out? How long until they realized all their problems had spawned with the new guy? Michael had better ties to the rest of them; it would be Michael over Ryan any day. As much as Ray adored Ryan, Michael would always be his number one. Ryan knew this. The plans spinning around his skull had to compensate for that, how could they get out, how could Ryan finish the job enough to get his money and retirement while also getting Ray to trust him and to leave Michael? Long nights looking at Ray’s ceiling would spit out a new plan that Ryan would promptly shove down because of some mistake in his sleep-weary mind.

The bedroom door opened again, and Ray slipped out before closing it again. He rested his head against the door, collecting himself, and then moved over to Ryan. The distance between them was respectful, Ryan wasn’t sure why it was there, but Ray just crossed his arms over his chest and maintained it.

“You need to leave,” Ray enunciated carefully. Ryan was confused, but nodded and stood. Looking around, Ryan spotted everything except his shoes.

“I think my shoes are in—“ Ryan began, but Ray’s voice was harder and slower, like he wasn’t understanding why Ryan didn’t get it the first time.

“You need to leave, _now_.”

Ray’s hand clasped like metal around Ryan’s bicep and he walked Ryan to the door. He only had enough time to snatch his keys off the table before Ray was pushing him out like some sort of bouncer and slamming the door shut.

Now Ryan was just standing out in the hallway with his keys and no shoes or coat or hat.

This was perplexing.

 

The drive to his apartment had done nothing more than turn the confusion into boiling anger. It had moved from confusion to worry, from worry to nervousness, all the way to anger. What reason would Ray have for throwing him out like that? Did he do something? Ryan couldn’t think of anything awful he did, and the only thing Ryan could think of is Michael figuring out who he is. The impulsive side of him said to skip town right now and never look back. Michael had been close on his trail ever since he fucking joined and he didn’t need anything more than this sudden attitude switch to get jumpy and leave. Enough evidence was collected, not a ton and not a weighty enough file for Ryan to be entirely comfortable, it would get them time in the clink. That was all he needed, a little space from them as they were in jail to disappear.

The rational side of him told him that this Crew was unique and in a unique position. To be adequately held he would have to find a way to get them jailed by someone other than the LSPD. Those hacks couldn’t hold a dog even if they were all tasked with watching it. And, besides that, any other number of reasons could have caused that sudden change. It wasn’t usual, but he didn’t know Ray enough to gauge if this _was_ a normal reaction or not. He knew Ray a lot, but the man was as mysterious as ever and it was hard to get information about his life or his feelings out. It would be better to look instead of jump first here, and he could fight himself out of any trouble he might get in.

Ryan went home to do a couple of things, calm down, get new clothing, and to type up a new report. Once that was all done, he headed out to the condo. He didn’t bother to stop at Ray’s, Michael was there and if he wanted a ride he could get it from his brother. That was inspired partially out of spite, Ryan’s anger never boiled over, but boiled down into a caustic black burn that didn’t leave, and it was his own way of taking a stab back. Some things couldn’t be scrapped away within a day and this anger was one of those things.

The rest of the day at the condo was them (minus Michael and Ray) coming up with a series of smaller jobs to do while they waited for Geoff to get better. He had grumbled irritably at that, and insisted he could do another job if he wanted to, but Jackie silenced him with a glare. Jackie had bit her lip at the no-shows and eventually just shrugged and said it would be the three of them, her, Ryan, and Gavin. They were doing them within the next week, and if Michael and Ray missed tomorrow they wouldn’t be included in the execution of any of the plans. Ryan carefully dodged questions about where they were, and just said that he had been waved off for the ride and Michael was there.

Another long, burned angry ride to his own apartment revealed nothing new, Michael’s car parked in the parking lot and the lights of the apartment were off. He had pressed the gas and kept rolling through the streets to his own junky apartment. Once there, he flopped on his mattress and tried to sleep. How many months had it been since he had fallen asleep alone? Maybe three? The regular schedule of him sleeping over was getting very comfy and very fitting. Now that he was back alone, in an outrageously less comfy bed, Ryan felt what was probably loneliness twinge at his brain, but he shoved it away. No time for loneliness.

The loud knock at his door shook him out of his own brain, and he checked the clock. 12 A.M. Who the hell was up and knocking at this time? The knock sounded again, more insistent, and Ryan heaved himself up and looked through the peephole. Oh. It was Ray. Sliding the locks open Ryan pulled his door open and prepared to say something, but the moment his mouth opened was also the same moment that Ray launched himself at Ryan and plastered himself to him. Stumbling backwards, Ryan’s fingertips grazed the door and he flung it shut. No need for the neighbors to see this. It was then Ryan could smell the marijuana on Ray, and he had no problem with that, but it was making his gut churn uncomfortably at this whole scenario.

Ray’s hot hand was then shoving into Ryan’s pants and in the blink of an eye was wrapped around his cock and Ryan jerked at the contact so hard he head-butted Ray. What the fuck. This was _not_ how they were doing this. Ryan gripped the offending arm hard, but Ray didn’t withdraw his grip and only tightened it. Ryan was going to go cross-eyed at this contact soon, and he was struggling to keep his thoughts straight.

“Stop, this isn’t how you want to do this,” Ryan rumbled, and Ray just bit Ryan’s bottom lip in the kiss and grinned lazily.

“Yes, it is,” he sighed and Ryan closed his eyes and leaned away from Ray’s lips to get himself under better control.

Of the various things he had envisioned of this, none of them were of a high Ray stumbling in and trying to get at his dick. He had figured Ray showing up at his door was either to gun him down, or in a moment of crisis and he needed someone to cry on. Now that he thought of that, maybe this was some sort of cry for help.

“Did something happen?” Ryan pressed, his hand pulling on the arm that was still too tight on his dick and keeping Ray at a distance with his other arm. Ray’s red-rimmed eyes widened and then narrowed. The arm in his pants withdrew and he took a full step backwards. One hand twisting the door knob.

“My dad died. Figured I should disappoint him one more time by putting a cock up my ass,” Ray said, the same slow and enunciated tone from when he kicked Ryan out. Ryan raked a hand through his hair and opened his mouth to plead with Ray to just stay and talk to him, but Ray caught his chin and pushed up so his jaw was closed, and then slid back out into the hallway. _What the fuck._ He should call Ray, tell him to come back here and work through his feelings. God, that sounded sappy. It didn’t sound like something Ray would ever go for. Ryan held his phone in his hand and repeatedly woke it up whenever it would fall asleep. He was just standing in the archway of the entrance to his apartment and feeling confused.

Which is why the next knock nearly caused him to jump out of his skin. Pocketing his phone, Ryan opened his door expecting to see an apologetic Ray or a broken down Ray, or at least Ray in general. Not his angrier, drunk-er, more hostile half-brother. Michael had his arms full of Ryan’s stuff, and one of the hands that was holding it all in his arms was wrapped around the neck of some liquor.

Ryan and he stared at each other for a few minutes; the smell of the alcohol on Michael was drifting into the apartment and was probably on his stuff. After a little bit longer, Michael growled and dropped all of Ryan’s stuff in the doorway. Ryan’s eyes followed it down, his shoes, coat, and hat were all in the bundle, and that’s why he missed Michael’s then attempted punch. The hand still wrapped around the bottle came up and Michael lunged forward, his feet hitting the bundle and him losing his balance, and the punch was more of Michael’s knuckles connecting with Ryan’s jaw and the bottle smashing across his cheek and nose. Michael didn’t just lose his balance, he completely fell down. After he hit Ryan, who stumbled backwards and clasped his nose to try and stop some of the bleeding, Michael went _BAM_ onto the floor, his bottle smashing next to Ryan’s feet.

Silence again, because Michael was staring at the floor and Ryan was making pathetic little groans at his bleeding nose. His next door neighbor, a little lady named Malka, stepped to see what was happening. She saw one glance and backed away quickly. Ryan could only imagine what this all looked like. Two guys, one lying on the floor with smashed glass and alcohol around him and a pile of clothes underneath his legs, the other standing over the other dude and bleeding through his fingers. Stumbling across the room, Ryan snagged some tissues and held them to his nose, he heard Michael before he saw him coming again. The glass crunching under his shoes and his steps heavy and dragging. Ryan braced himself to be hit again, but Michael just grabbed his shirt and yanked him so they were face to face.

“You hurt my baby brother, we hurt you,” Michael slurred, shaking Ryan with the hand still locked on his shirt. Ryan nodded in response, and Michael grinned a grin that would have scared any other person. Ryan figured he would have been scared too, except Michael was drunk and he was soaked in alcohol and Ryan could ignore a bleeding nose much easier.

“Gotcha,” Ryan said, his voice nasally. Michael turned and left then, his shoes crunching back over the glass he was leaving on the floor and kicking the bundle out into the hallway. He didn’t even shut the door. How rude.

Ryan’s heart had been normal up until he heard the elevator doors close, and then that impulsive side of him was screaming into his ears and making him antsy. He should run now and not risk any exposure. He should run now and stop any of the relationships from spinning out of control. Ray and Ryan staying secret had been something easy for him to grasp. It would be easier to leave behind and it was easier to rationalize. Now, though, if it became something people knew about? How could he rationalize that? They had no excuse to not be closer, to not be like a real couple. That was too intimate. So far Ryan had broken too many of his own rules, he wasn’t sure he could keep breaking them. Not without reverting back to his youthful days.

That’s what scared him about all of this. Ryan’s moral high horse kept him above the scrabbling hands of crippling shame and disgust. The more blows this horse took the more he would wallow in his self-doubt and self-pity, the more hands that locked onto his thighs and calves the more he found himself sinking back into bad habits. He knew his smoking had picked up, and that sometimes Ray would frown and busy himself so he could make an excuse to get away from the Ryan who reeked of cigarettes. Sometimes while doing small raids on drug houses to root out the money they weren’t paying the Crew he would get a little overzealous and Jackie would give him _that look_ with her teeth gritted. Geoff hadn’t been out since the time he saw Ryan take out the LSPD, but after those days of trigger-happy Ryan Geoff would avoid his eyes.

Maybe they were scared of that Ryan, he knows he would have been in their position, because even if Ray and Michael were good, Ryan had singlehandedly tripled his kill count in one day with three gun-shot wounds. That wasn’t something anyone could do, that was something someone who was _too_ good did. Being too good brought suspicion, which was why Ryan tried to hide it. How could he have gotten so good in Atlanta with some nameless gang?

Sighing and pushing himself back to the present, Ryan walked through to the hallway and gathered up his stuff, it smelled and was wet from the spill, and dumped them into his laundry bin. Shoes and all. Then, he swept up the glass as good as he could and set down towels. Tonight was too much too fast. First, Ray trying to use shit he knew wouldn’t work to forget about his problems, and then Michael coming in and displaying his own…acceptance, maybe, of the relationship. That one was harder to decipher. Honestly, Ryan thought Michael would have just killed him once he found out about the relationship. Maybe Ray had so many nice things to say Michael got over it.

 

The next day saw no Michael and Ray, Jackie even stopped by both of their apartments and got no reply. Ryan didn’t say anything about the mess of brothers that had stumbled in late at night spurred on by the death of their father. Ray had never talked about his father further than saying that’s the parent him and Michael shared, but they had both reacted curiously to his death.

The operations were simple. All that he, Gavin, and Jackie were to do was to gain control of new dealers, and dealers they had lost. Here in Los Santos, that was how territory worked. You controlled certain drug dealers and that was your territory. The more people you had who sent you profits the better. Like a real mafia, they helped keep the cops off people’s backs for a good price. It’s what made the city so volatile; the minute a big gang crumbled there was a bountiful amount of new territory and new sources of income. Before Ray and Michael were involved in the Crew they had racked up their own close-knit group of dealers who had gotten territory by absorbing other dealers business.  That formula was what the Crew was currently dealing with. Had Michael and Ray shown up, they would have better plans of attack. They hadn’t, and now they were just going in with force.

The first four dealers they handled were easy, most dealers were pretty quick to sway if you had the power, and these were no different. The next three were harder, they were already territory border dealers who switched allegiances based on which gun was pointed at them, but the other gang was paying some pretty pennies to keep them. All it took was a few well-placed bullets and harsh words to get them to switch and promise to stay switched. They would be back in those houses soon.

The last one was different. First, it wasn’t the same guy as when they first brought the area in; second, armed guards accompanied the three of them through the house. Ryan was calculating the likelihood they could get out easy without any harm when they entered the room where a guy with a blunt on his lips and ladies on the couch next to him was. Jackie told him the Crew didn’t appreciate this, and the guy had only laughed. Gavin had threatened, and Jackie had glared at him.

“I think,” kush-man drawled, “you are in no position to make threats.”

Gavin’s eyes drifted to Ryan, and so did Jackie’s. _Shit._

Another thing Ryan feared, the Crew depending on his killing ability.

Luck was a large part of his life. In gun fights it was always luck on his side. He never believed he would lose and his skills kept him alive. That bullet he managed to dodge, or that bullet that hit him but didn’t nick anything important and just went through clean. That shot he took wildly while falling successfully hit his target. His automatic and his reloads mowed down cops faster than they could think. He covered all his sides and held the upper-hand. That’s what made him good. Natural talent had more power in places of instincts and impulses. This situation, he held no hand. He was in such a terrible position that he wasn’t even allowed at the poker table. Every other person besides his allies had been dealt a hand, while they stood in the shadows with only the weapons hidden on them.

Swallowing, Ryan made eye contact with Jackie. He darted his eyes down to Gavin’s legs and then the floor, and then back to her. She furrowed her brows, but nodded. He couldn’t assure her of this going well. He couldn’t protect both of them and himself, and he couldn’t predict what would happen after he made his move.

The solution was to light the table on fire, right?

Ryan and Jackie moved at the same time. Jackie dropping and kicking out Gavin’s legs, which caused him to crash to the floor, and Ryan surging to his right and smashing his fist against the neck of the guard and ripping the gun out of his hand. Ryan had to spin the guard using the hand on the gun so he could use the body to shield himself from the other guard’s shots. Out of the corner of his eye Ryan saw Jackie scramble away from the clusterfuck of guards and yank out a small pistol and jump up to the couch to wrap an arm around the dealer and hold him. She kicked one of the girls in the face when she went to pull out a gun.

Gavin crawled out from the circle and pulled out his own pistol. Ryan had to take in account of where Jackie and Gavin were when he spun and unloaded the gun into three of the guards. Gavin’s pistol rang out, hitting the other two. Gavin was a good asset. He could be an incredible grifter and he could hack into things the other guys could only dream of. However, his combat skills needed serious help. Sure, he shot the other two, but that didn’t mean he did it well. One shot grazed thug one’s shoulder. The other shot grazed thug two’s hip. Great. Gavin’s eyes widened and Ryan had to haul his ass over to knock into both of the guys.

Jackie was in the path of where the bullets would have sprayed, so Ryan had to deal with it another way.

Thug one’s guns shot a line up the wall and ceiling, and the other began wrestling with Ryan. This sucked. Ryan’s shoulder and right leg were screaming in pain. His mind was spinning and he could only block as he tried to get past the haze of the pain being kicked back up. Gavin kicked the gun out of hand of the guy still trying to shoot Ryan, and Ryan was still half on top of him. Ryan’s hands were scrabbling at the arm of the other guy he was also _still_ half on top of, because he was being choked. Dropping a hand and shoving it into his pants pocket, Ryan yanked out his pocketknife. Flipping it open he plunged it backwards into the guy behind him. Somehow, through some dumb luck, he nicked the carotid artery in his throat. The resulting spray made Ryan flinch away, and then look up to see Gavin about to pull the trigger on the last guy. Rolling to the side back to neck-wound man, his mask coating in red, Ryan avoided being next to the blast. Neck-wound man was trying to press his hand against his neck.

Ryan threw himself backwards and crawled so he could stand. He could feel the blood coming off of him, and he must have looked awful because Gavin start gagging and stumbled to the other side of the room. Jackie was gaping from the couch, kush-man passed out in her grip. The girls had fled long ago, though Ryan hadn’t noticed them leave.

“Y’think they have more guards?” Ryan asked, moving to grab another gun from one of the men he had taken out earlier.

“Don’t know, we have to stay until this guy wakes up, anyway,” Jackie informed, her eyes staring more at the ceiling than at the scene in front of the couch.

“We all OK?” Ryan wheezed as his gloved hand came up to wipe the forehead of the mask. It was dripping into his eyes. Gavin made a sound Ryan took as an acknowledgement from the other side of the room, Jackie nodded from the couch.

After these kinds of fights, Ryan got tired. His bones would ache and his legs felt like lead. The adrenaline would crash him hard and the world would slow back down to a trudge. They waited at the house with kush-man, the only sound being their breathing and the sickly gurgles from neck-wound man. Ryan wasn’t squeamish. He had seen enough in his life that this carotid injury was only on the list because he had been so close to the spray. When kush-man woke up, Jackie had pressed the pistol hard against his throat and growled threatening words. He had agreed to their deal, and on the way back Jackie remarked lightly that he would probably never leave them. Ryan didn’t want to respond, so he stayed silent in the passenger seat.

He had yanked off the mask once they had gotten in the car, which only made it easier for him to feel the blood that had smeared onto his face and on his clothes. Making it back into the condo had solicited a gasp from Geoff, who questioned what happened. Gavin launched into that tale while Ryan stripped down in the bathroom and took a warm shower. Later, Geoff would give that same slightly awed, slightly terrified look that he always did whenever Ryan did something awful.

 

Ray and Michael didn’t show up the next week, and the rest of the Crew was growing worried. They started calling the two of them on the regular. And it was on the seventh day of their absence that Gavin whooped.

“Michael’s voice mail changed!” He shouted excitedly, Geoff pulling out his phone and Jackie and Ryan leaning closer to hear the speaker. Michael’s voice mail was just him saying he knew how they were worried, but they should chill. They had family problems to deal with and that they’d be back soon. Gavin had tried Ray’s number then, but got the same voicemail as before.

(Ryan could have told him that, he called Ray every morning he woke up.)

It was another two weeks of small jobs and territory checks before Ray and Michael showed up again. Ryan had long since stopped checking to see if he saw either of their vehicles in the parking lot of Ray’s building, so when he flopped onto the couch with a mug of coffee that Jackie had made, he wasn’t expecting the door to open again. Geoff was a lot better already, reaching the end of his recovery time, and he was on his left. Gavin was asleep on Ryan’s right, and Jackie was finishing up her own cup of coffee. That meant it could only be two other people.

Ryan and Jackie had both jumped and went straight to the front of the condo, Geoff had slowed down enough to wake up Gavin, and then they all piled to the stairs to take in Michael and Ray. They looked OK. Michael had a black-eye, but otherwise he was grinning. His slightly red hair was longer, and his beard was less well-trimmed. Ray looked like he hadn’t slept in two years, but he was smiling just as much. His brown hair was mimicking Michael’s nearly perfectly, but his beard was trimmed. Gavin acted first, bounding up the stairs and pulling the two of them into a tight hug. He blubbered about how they shouldn’t leave like that, and they laughed and hugged him back. Ray made brief eye contact with Ryan before ducking his head back into Gavin’s shoulder.

After they all got their hugs in, Gavin made it his mission to inform the brothers of the Crews exploits, telling them about Ryan going beast-mode and saving them all and about how all their small jobs went. Jackie made a special brunch for the whole Crew, and they all inquired about what happened with Michael and Ray. At first, they had just glanced at each other and Michael had moved to wave it off, but Geoff wasn’t one to be waved off.

“Spit it out, Michael,” Geoff retorted, hands twisting together. Michael swallowed and glanced at Ray again.

“We had to stabilize the…” Ray spoke for Michael, turning his head so he couldn’t see the sour look Michael sent him, “…family business.” Ray pursed his lips and shrugged a little. “That’s all, really. We were just called back so it wouldn’t crumble.”

Geoff and Jackie nodded, accepting it. Gavin launched into a million questions about the family business, and about the family, all while ignoring how uncomfy Michael and Ray were at the questioning. They dodged the questions well, and soon enough Geoff moved the conversation over to their newest heist plans. Jackie took over, because it was her heist, and they listened to her debriefing, getting their jobs and all. The air between Ryan and Michael was markedly less tense, which Ryan appreciated with his entire being. They were even able to trade some jokes, which was a pleasant surprise. Apparently all it took was Michael telling Ryan his terms and also busting his nose. The ends justify the means, Ryan supposed.

Later, Ryan and Ray made their departure, they got a few waves but Geoff and Michael were already working their way through a bottle of alcohol. As soon as the truck was started, Ryan glanced over at Ray. “So…”

Ray shoved a knuckle into his mouth and leaned forward in the seat, his cheeks looked red and he had his eyes closed shut. Embarrassed, probably. That was OK; it had been a hard three weeks.

“It’s OK,” Ryan began, focusing on the road in front of him and the hum of the engine. “I get it.”

The slam of Ray’s fist against the door frame startled Ryan though, and he looked over, Ray still had his eyes closed but he looked a lot less embarrassed and a lot angrier. “Stop,” he growled, and Ryan had never heard him take that tone before, “just stop. You don’t _get it_.” And Ryan was left as confused as he was the night Ray had come to him high. The anger in Ray was something he hadn’t been witness to, and was a whole new path. Sure, Ryan had assumed that with Michael’s anger Ray had to have the same thing in him somewhere, but he wasn’t prepared for this bewildering blaze beside him. If he knew what he wasn’t getting he would be in a better element, but for now he just clamped his mouth shut and frowned at the car in front of them.

The silence slid by as Ryan worked his jaw and tried to think of something to say. He didn’t glance back over at Ray, and kept both hands on the wheel. A sigh from Ray didn’t even draw his gaze, and he could hear Ray taking deep breaths. An anger control thing, he was trying to calm down. Twenty minutes into the ride, Ray spoke again.

“Sorry,” he started, “you don’t deserve that.” _Maybe he did._ “I’ve just been…stressed.”

Ryan looked then, and Ray was staring out the side window, blinking heavily and clenching his fists. “I can listen,” Ryan said, letting a hand rest open on the console, his head turning back to watch the road. It took a few seconds, but Ray’s hand slid into his.

“I’m not supposed to talk about family business to the Crew,” Ray muttered, and that must have been why he was angry, “just know it was bad, I need to be distracted.” Ray’s hand squeezed at that, and Ryan glanced back over to the mischievous grin on the other’s face. God, could this guy get any better?

 

Everyone was back to working condition soon enough, and the heist began. Somehow, like every other big thing they did, this one went to shit within seconds.

“Fuck. I’m being arrested,” Geoff cried, and the chorus of confusion by the other guys overrode Jackie’s initial questions. She pushed them on after Geoff’s comm was squashed. Ryan had hoped into his car and taken off to the highway to begin clearing it. This plan was big. The scale of it hadn’t ever quite been hit yet, and Ryan had had his doubts. Right about now those doubts were being confirmed.

He was pressed up against the side of Michael’s big truck, Michael and Gavin next to him. Ray was on the other side of the highway and clearing that way. He wasn’t complaining, but Michael kept barking out that they’d send someone to help him out once things got clearer. Ray had only hummed into his comm and kept going. That kind of focus was appreciated. Jackie’s voice was all over the place, her nerves coming out in her voice.

“I’m coming in right now and landing even if it isn’t clear,” her words pushed the three on this side up so they could watch her come in. The plane was coming in from Ray’s direction, and Michael shouted at Ray to get over here. In the distance, Ryan saw Ray jump up and begin the run through police forces. Of course, they were helping him until Jackie’s plane bounced right over them and further down the highway than planned. Gavin immediately scrambled back to it, Michael on his heels and Ryan bringing up the rear of the three. Ray was even further behind, in the middle of the fray. Ryan was trying to provide him some sort of cover, but the fact Ray was in the middle of it all was keeping them occupied from the plane. Michael started yelling at both of them, and Ryan hopped into the plane.

“Go without me,” Ray yelled, “I’ll be fine, I’ll get Geoff!”

Michael and Ryan didn’t even have to look at each other to vocalize their thoughts.

“No!” That was both Michael and Ryan, at the same time, but Gavin was pulling them out of the way and yanking the door shut.

“Go! I have you covered!” Ray yelled again, and Jackie was starting the plane. Michael surged forward back to the door, but Ryan grabbed his arm. The tension went up enough for Gavin to begin looking worried as the two of them stared each other down, before Michael flopped into one of the seats. Ray’s comm was similarly squashed, so any updates on him were moot. Gavin was talking about how his theft had gone down, and Michael would interrupt to tell him what he did wrong. Jackie had invited Ryan up to the cockpit with her; the small conversations there weren’t worth much.

Parachuting into the base was much harder. It had gone Michael, Gavin, Ryan, and then Jackie. As they descended gun shots started to ring out, but thankfully missed their chutes. This was the really hard part. As soon as they could get onto the ground they would be OK, they were still trying to prevent that getting to the ground ending in multiple broken bones, though.

Jackie ended up landing first, Michael second. They scored the two jets that would get them the truly ridiculously large amount of money once they sold them. For Gavin and Ryan, that just meant they had to get out and get to the rendezvous point. Ryan had to save Gavin’s shitty ass more than once, and all it was doing was bringing back memories of Kansas City.

Kansas City was probably Ryan’s bloodiest city. Oklahoma was close to that same level, but Ryan’s trigger finger had never been heavier than in Kansas City. Probably because the police in Kansas City were suffocating. Walk down the road and find another couple, it was a near constant street battle whenever he and his gang had walked outside. Whatever the case, Ryan killed a lot while getting Gavin out of the base. Once out, they stole the nearest car and gunned it to the rendezvous point. Michael and Jack were already there, and they sold off the planes. The buyers had been promised both planes beforehand, so the fact it went so well was mind-blowing.

Of course, that’s when they remembered they had to deal with both Geoff and Ray being off the grid. Geoff, arrested, Ray, M.I.A.

Except, they should never underestimate either of those two. Once at the condo, they found both of them. On the couch, watching TV. Just like nothing had happened.

“What, the fuck?” Michael vented, arms waving as he walked around the couch and stood in front of the TV. Geoff only grinned. He and Ray glanced at each other, and then Geoff went first.

“They didn’t search me completely and only sent two guys. What can I say, I got insulted,” Geoff grinned, fingers tapping his leg, “and then I stole their car and came back here. No point in following, I’d fucked up already.” Jackie wrapped her arms around his neck from behind and pressed a kiss to his temple. Gavin’s lip curled a little at the PDA and Michael was rubbing his face, awed by his story.

“I just held them off long enough to disappear into the city,” Ray said, “nothing half as exciting or cool as Geoff’s.” Michael crashed over onto the couch then, flopping onto Ray and making him grunt from the weight sat on him. Michael whispered something, which made Ray laugh, and then he pushed away from him.

“All things considered,” Ray said, stretching dramatically, “I’m tired.” He looked at Ryan then, who was half-way through a cup of coffee.

Sighing and setting his mug down, Ryan relented. “Fine, fine. Guess we’re leaving, everyone. Have a nice night.”

 

Michael didn’t bother them the next morning, and Ryan had never spent so long in Ray’s bed before. Ray kept complaining that Ryan was too lazy, and Ryan would mutter mean words and roll over so he couldn’t see Ray’s fully awake and fully dressed figure at the end of the bed. Finally, Ray grew tired of it and left the room, the sound of the sink running and then him walking back to the room was enough to get Ryan up. No, he was not going to get soaked. Not this early in the day.

They were sat on the couch, Ray straddling Ryan’s lap and sighing into his mouth when Ryan let his head fall back so he could look at the ceiling. The kisses just moved along his neck and jaw, but Ryan needed to get some sort of constructive communication going between them before he burst and spilled everything in one fell swoop, stuff he wouldn’t have otherwise spilled.

“Does Michael know about us?” He asked slowly, Ray stilling and withdrawing back.

“Yes,” Ray hesitated, fingers loosening and tightening in a pattern on Ryan’s shoulders.

“Did you tell him?” Ryan continued, closing his eyes. He didn’t have a problem with Ray telling, but the only reason for that non-problem was how Michael didn’t kill him. Had he been consulted beforehand, he would have told Ray not to do it.

Ray scoffed and his hands tightened hard on Ryan’s shoulders to get his attention. “Don’t be that way. I didn’t tell, he figured it out. We aren’t exactly subtle, you know? Especially when you’re shoes are in my room.” Ryan laughed at that, his hands stroking Ray’s hips and affording him a distraction.

“He punched me. Also, busted my nose with a bottle of vodka. And then broke the whole thing on my floor.” Ray laughed then, and laughed enough that he slid sideways to lie on the couch with his legs across Ryan’s lap. Ryan grinned back down at him, feeling the doubt of his mind push away so he could replace it with the more carefree happiness.


	5. our doubts are traitors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael and Ray were supposed to be going to some restaurant because Michael thought he needed someone to treat him to something nice. Ray still hadn’t tied his tie and his shoes were sitting on the counter. Michael was made up perfectly, and he stepped through the door with his most wolf-like of grins. Ryan had waited long enough for Michael to step through so he could grab his keys and leave. That hurt, but it was more than likely they would be back to making out the next day.
> 
> “Trouble in paradise?” Michael had grinned, and Ray groaned and pushed him out the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me: im gonna get this out b4 2014 ends!  
> me: *hits a writing wall* damn *runs thru the final 4k words 12 times b4 i feel satisfied enough 2 call it done*
> 
> BE PROUD OF ME FOR CONQUERING THIS AWFUL NEARLY 14K COMPLETELY DIFFERENT CHAPTER  
> the last nearly 4k words are far from my best and i cant even attest for how i feel about this chapter. its a lot of....NOT ryan and ray i guess, haha :) sorry for the long wait and thank you all for the kind words! i cant even tell you all how much they helped me when i was struggling with this monster pile of words

The light twinkling of his phone woke him up. He surfaced from dreams that always slid through his fingers and disappeared before he could pull enough sense together to remember how they made him feel. Nightmares he couldn’t remember tormented him on bad nights, waking up sweaty and shaking but with no real knowledge of what had caused him to stumble through the apartment and into the shower. Hot water always washed the sweat and terror off his skin and helped clear his mind.

That phone jingle made his eyes shoot open and made him slither out from the arm tossed lazily over his side so he could scoop it out from the drawer he hid it in. One hand snatching the phone and the other grabbing a shirt off the floor, he’d creep out and onto the balcony of the apartment.

Ryan never woke up when the phone rang, something Ray thanked God for every day it happened. It was because he was so much more relaxed around him, Ray knew that, but he would always sit with one eye trained on the window so he could avoid Ryan hearing or walking into any of the conversations the phone entailed. He’d answer once he was on the balcony, his voice sharp and commanding when he’d bark _what_ into the phone.

The family in New Jersey barely understood time zones and Ray was a morning bird only when Michael needed the counterbalance. His words would render the other line silent and Ray could imagine them glancing at Michael’s number and wondering if it was worth it to try the other brother.

(It wasn’t, Michael was worse than Ray.)

“Adelia is complaining again,” the voice on the other side of the phone, Cruz, Ray recognized, hesitated. Ray rubbed his forehead angrily, running through all the self-control tactics he had developed over the years. He would smooth his tone out and take this one step at a time, in the three months since the death of daddy the family had been in a power vacuum. The prodigy sons dragged their sorry asses back to New Jersey and quickly kicked down their siblings into positions that gave them no real power. Adelia, the daughter immediately after Ray in the line, was the loudest protester. Where their few older siblings had proven to be nothing worth anything, the middle kids were the perfect crime lords. Michael and Ray balanced each other out into the pride of their father; Adelia was the one in the shadow who their father placed high because the two real winners had jumped ship. She believed she should be the leader and that the two brothers were glorified failures with some good luck.

She shouldn’t be underestimated, she was good, but Michael and Ray were better. She was younger than the both of them and had never dealt with any other family besides their own. Michael and Ray had taken plenty of contracts and lives, Michael and Ray were some of the youngest drug and crime lords to run towns. When Ray had been the sole kingpin in Miami he had single-handedly kept his claws sunk in until he got bored and let the city figure itself out again. Adelia had only ever gone to a few meetings and run a small offshoot in Buffalo. Experience always triumphed and Adelia stumbled before the brothers did. She still stomped around in Buffalo, where they had told her to stay, and she was always trying to turn the family against them.

“You guys gonna call Michael?” Ray asked, letting himself sink back into a lawn chair and closing his eyes. Adelia had to be handled with gloves, volatile and spiteful; she was a lot like Michael. Except, Michael could afford the sloppiness that came with that kind of mixture, Adelia had no equivalent to a Ray to clean her messes up. It was a liability to the family, but Adelia wasn’t someone they could cut. Too many bridges would burn if they shoved Adelia out; Ray had had to explain that to Michael. Still had to explain it sometimes, too.

“Well,” Cruz began, and then paused, “well—we were hoping…” Ray knew what that meant. _Please do it for us, we don’t want to hear him yell, we are intimidated by him, he could make mistakes, please don’t make us deal with him._

Ray was feeling merciful this morning and he had promised Michael they’d start exploring new avenues of dealing with Adelia if they got another call like this anyway. “I’ll tell him,” Ray said, standing and pacing the length of the balcony, “what is she doing?”

Cruz faltered slightly, “she’s trying to find your siblings,” Cruz kept barreling on once he started, stopping Ray from making the comment that was begging to be spat out, “we think she wants to try and threaten them, or something. Maybe prove you aren’t a true family-man?” Ray scoffed and took some deep breaths. Grounding him enough to think through the white hot rage pulsating against his eyes and brain.

“How would that prove anything? I haven’t seen them in years, they aren’t even related to Dad,” a knock at the sliding doors stopped him and made Ray direct his attention that way. It had been a courtesy thing; Ryan could have easily opened the door and stepped out without Ray even noticing. He had just woken up, clearly, because his hair was sticking up in odd places and he was still in his boxers. Pillow imprints were pressed into the side of his face and he was rubbing eye crust away. It made Ray’s heart flip, made him smile, made him tune out whatever Cruz was saying. Fuck, it was probably important, too, but Ryan was almost too much for Ray.

Ryan, tallest man on the team, longish brown hair that needed to be cut, hard blue eyes that softened whenever they made eye contact, thick muscles, mystery man. Those things made Ray have to sit down sometimes, made him feel overwhelmed. The man who dropped into their lives more than a year ago was as mysterious as the day Ray had first seen him on their couch. Everything about Ryan was intense, his gaze was intense, his voice was intense, his strength was intense, his touch was intense. Ray wasn’t even that much younger than him, but he sometimes felt like a child that Ryan had to take care of.

The secret shame he still carried about the night he freaked out and got way too high and spilled too many secrets to Michael and then tried to push through his general sex aversion so he could say his dad truly, truly had a reason to hate them was always over his head. Ryan had kissed his palms and wrists and arms and shoulders and told him that they all make mistakes; Ray had felt angry with that reply, just like he was angry about Ryan saying he got it. Less about Ray and Michael pledging to hide their Jersey problems, more about how Ryan had never shared enough for Ray to feel like they could relate.

But, for all the confusion and immaturity Ray harbored, Ryan would ride every awful wave and come out smiling and pressing more kisses to his skin. It made Ray feel a little better, made him feel a little less alone. He wasn’t ever truly alone, Michael was attached to his hip and Gavin to Michael’s, but in the Crew it was obvious how they paired. Geoff and Jackie, Michael and Gavin. The lower tiered people didn’t count, mainly because they only further exacerbated his loneliness. Ray had been the lone string that wrapped around the rest and kept the Crew from falling to pieces. Geoff wasn’t a bad leader, Ray preferred him, but Ray ran damage control a lot. It was Ray who brought in the contacts and brought in the drugs. Miami did a lot to Ray, his drug prowess and contacts grew exponentially, he fought with the Colombians but they still would provide him with whatever as long as he left their territory alone and stayed in his own lane.

Michael was easily the best fighter and cleaner of the Crew, no one else quite compared to him, but it was only Ray who could so perfectly swoop in and cut off the loose ends. He and his brother were the perfect team, where Ray over-planned and ran things just a little _too_ tight; Michael ran things too loose and often resorted to brute force. Together they leveled out into a machine.

“Call Michael,” Ray hurried, trying to finish the call before Ryan got the door open, “tell him what happened and tell him that I’ll call.” Cruz groaned a little and started to argue about calling Michael but Ray hung up at the same time Ryan stepped out.

“What was that about?” Ryan asked, fingers reaching out and pulling Ray into a hug. Ray only shrugged and pressed his face into Ryan’s chest.

“Drug shit,” he lied, “same old, same old.” Ray couldn’t see the taller man’s face from where he was, but he was pretty sure he frowned. It was the same lie Ray always told when Ryan would see him on this phone. This phone wasn’t Ray’s usual phone, the phone he usually did drug shit on, but Ryan accepted it without question nonetheless. Another thing that made everything a little easier for Ray. Ryan clearly trusted him enough to not intrude, _or_ he was nice enough to allow Ray to hide things since he so clearly did as well.

Ryan hummed and dug his fingers into Ray’s shoulders and back, massaging the muscles there. “Should we go back to bed? It’s only six.” Ray pulled back and stretched, sliding the phone into his pajamas pocket to hide later.

“You can, I need to call Michael in a little bit,” Ryan’s eyes narrowed at that, but he nodded.

“Fine, if you need me wake me up,” Ryan ducked down to Ray’s height and pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth. Disappearing back into the apartment, Ray followed him so he could grab his other phone, the usual work one. Michael would probably call first and wouldn’t wait for Ray, but that made things smoother because Ray wouldn’t have to call and hope Cruz had finished the call already.

 

At some point, Ray had fallen back asleep on the couch. That’s the reason he didn’t realize Michael was at his apartment until Michael fell on top of him, crushing him further into the cushions. Grunting, Ray wrapped his arms around Michael to keep him from falling onto the floor when Ray rolled them so Michael wasn’t completely smashing him. Michael laughed and head-butted Ray lightly before sobering up and knocking knees with him.

“How are you feeling?” Michael murmured, his hands tightening on the back of Ray’s shirt, his eyes hardening and anger starting to filter into his tone. Ray frowned at him and sighed, his eyes glancing at the bedroom door over Michael’s shoulder to make sure Ryan wasn’t up. Michael had kept his volume low for the same concern, but Ray still had to check.

“Is this about what I think it’s about?” Ray offered instead, dodging the question. It wasn’t that he felt particularly bad, well, he did, but he didn’t want to admit to feeling guilty. His half-siblings on his mother’s side were innocent. They were raised by some nice family members on their mom’s side that weren’t involved in the kind of life their mom had fallen into. Ray could never say anything bad about his mother, partially because he hadn’t known her long, but also because she was everything good he had known.

The sins of the parent come down on the children, and it was Ray’s family that helped destroy his half-siblings lives. Of course, his mother had died from what the cops put down as suicide, but anyone with any knowledge of the gang world knew what _really_ happened.

Michael must have seen it on his face, or known that he wouldn’t say it out loud, because Ray was pulled close. Michael’s nose was buried in Ray’s hair and his hands had flattened out to press more solidly against his back. It was nice, nice to be held by someone who understood it more. Even if he felt a little shame at the way his breath hiccupped, even if Michael would jokingly complain later that his shirt was ruined by snot and Ray would turn red and pout.

It was pathetic, he thought distantly, that he was having this reaction. He was having it because he had it every time his other family was brought up in these kinds of contexts. Whenever their father had felt particularly spiteful to Ray he would spit out harsh words about what happened to the other siblings of his and Ray would crawl under Michael’s covers and let Michael tell him about constellations or something he learned in workshop or gossip he heard at school while Ray pretended his eyes weren’t watering. Ray had known when he first got Cruz’s call that Michael would show up at his door, but he had figured he would have called first. The phone that was between them hadn’t rung and woke Ray up though, so maybe Michael had just been extra concerned.

Ray cried for five minutes, he pulled himself together after that, and only a few hiccups escaped him. Michael sighed again, pressing his cheek to Ray’s head. “We need to do something,” he mused, his fingers starting to drum on the other’s back.

The statement of the year, really. Ray was scrambling for some solution. Michael’s solutions were probably a variety of things about killing or possibly torturing her. Adelia was misguided, not evil. She needed to be taken out of the equation of chaos in New Jersey, and moving her to New York hadn’t done enough to help. They could blacklist her, although if she came back through that she would be a real force to be reckoned with. Putting her into another town wouldn’t work either, again for the reason of her gathering power. Buffalo was full of people sided with the brothers so she couldn’t gain a foothold, but anywhere else was a little too risky.

Ray’s arms were limp around Michael, one arm resting on his side and the other being laid on. He wiggled his fingers on the arm being laid on to keep them awake and head-butted Michael’s chest. “You got anything good?” Ray countered, wanting to hear what he thought was best. Michael huffed in response before starting.

“We just fuckin’ kill her,” Michael always soldiered on with this point. Sometimes, Ray would truly consider it. Especially times like now, but the rational side of him would kick it out of his head. Adelia was family, to prevent destroying and fraying ties with the rest of the family it was best to keep her alive. Adelia was a lot closer to the rest of their siblings than they were; she had stayed in New Jersey. Ray’s half-asleep arm pressed against Michael’s back, moving around to try and find a pressure point on his shoulder. The red-head wiggled his shoulders to try and shake the hand off, and then jabbed a finger into Ray’s shoulder blade, finding the pressure point almost immediately.

Tensing with a grunt, Ray retaliated by digging his elbow on the other arm into Michael’s side. The other chuckled and let up the pressure. “If you don’t like my ideas,” he lectured, “you should tell me with words, not violence.” Ray rolled his eyes and bumped his forehead to Michael’s chest.

“I’ve told you before,” Ray was tired of going through this over and over, “we can’t do that.” Michael probably rolled his eyes at this, Ray wasn’t in the position to see it, again, but he knew Michael well enough to know his reactions.

“What the hell is stopping us?” Michael barreled on, sucking in a deep breath like he was going to keep on going. Ray stopped him with equally rushed words.

“We can’t kill one of our own,” Michael’s huff signaled for Ray to keep going, “even if she is trying to sabotage us. She’s still part of the family and we may have the power, but they all _know_ her. We left, she stayed.” Michael huffed again, and his shoulders tensed.

The bedroom door creaked open then, and Ray peeked over Michael’s shoulder. Ryan looked blearily over at them on the couch, but his gaze didn’t linger long. This wasn’t the first time he had seen the brothers in these kinds of positions. They were very affectionate, was all. He crossed over wordlessly to the bathroom and a minute or two later the shower turned on.

Michael shoved Ray so his back was against the back of the couch and Michael could move and sit up. Ray swung his legs around so he could match his brother’s appearance. “We need to go see her,” Michael finally said, his chin resting on his palm. Ray frowned and rubbed his face irritably.

“Why?” Why fly out to the opposite coast (again) and see the exact person who hated their guts?

Michael rolled his eyes and stood. “She’s a pussy,” he said it loudly, Ray winced, “the moment she looks us in our fuckin’ eyes she’ll back the hell off.” Ray sighed and rubbed his eyes with his hands. Really, what could it hurt? He nodded and Michael grinned at him, all teeth. “Let’s leave now.”

“Why?”

Michael waved his hands above his head and marched into the bedroom. Ray got up and followed at his heels. This was obnoxious. They didn’t need to leave right now and he had plans to go over with Geoff. Geoff would inevitably be pissed at them for vacating the state in the middle of heist prep. Plus, they had several small jobs coming up and Jackie was still annoyed at them for disappearing when they did and leaving them in the dark. Ray crossed his arms over his chest and watched Michael pull the duffle bag out from under the bed and stuff some clothes in it.

“If we get out there quickly and quietly she won’t have time to prepare,” Michael said as he tossed the duffle at Ray. “Change in the car, we should leave now before boy-toy gets out of the shower.” Ray rolled his eyes for the thousandth time that day and slipped on a pair of shoes while Michael was already out the door and down the hall. He knew Ray was a pushover for him, that’s why he did these things.

Ray jotted a quick note on the calendar, _gone 4 work_ , and then jogged down the hall to get into the elevator Michael was keeping open for him. Sometimes Ray felt like he might be too nice to Michael, like he let him get away with a little too much, but Michael extended the courtesy so Ray would let it slide.

The car ride was quiet between them, mostly because Ray was changing out of his pajamas and into the clothes Michael had packed for him and while also calling Cruz to inform him of their plans. It wasn’t much of a plan, their only objective was to stand in front of her, but Cruz seemed fine with it. When they had put Adelia into Buffalo they hadn’t talked to her, just had her moved out there. In fact, they had only seen her at the funeral. Irresponsible on their part, but it had seemed like the best thing to do.

 

New Jersey was trashy. It smelled like trash, it looked like trash, the people were often trash, there was no saving it, really. Michael was more of a stereotypical Jersey boy than Ray, who was much more of a Queens kid. They both made faces when they stepped out of the Newark airport, but Cruz was outside waiting for them. It had been a five hour trip, which wasn’t all that bad, but plane rides made Michael grumpy and made Ray tired.

Ray turned on his phone as he slid into the back seat of the car; Michael and Cruz were in front talking about heading up to Buffalo. It definitely would have been easier to fly into New York, but paranoia was a crazy thing and who knew where Adelia had contacts. They had a fucking long drive ahead of them, and Ray just wanted to sleep for it. Michael wasn’t stupid enough to get them in trouble in the next five hours, so Ray figured he could crash hard and let the two in the front deal with it all.

His phone was buzzing almost nonstop as it loaded up all of the calls and text messages he had gotten. Ryan, Geoff, Jackie, Gavin, Lindsay, and Kerry had all tried to reach him, although Ryan had tried the most. His text messages were sounding more and more hostile, and the voicemails were probably no better. Geoff only left two text messages, and they were both him cursing Ray out and saying he was supposed to be the responsible brother. (Yeah, right.) Jackie’s were pleading, but had the underlying edge of anger. She would chew them out when they got back.

Shoving it in his pocket, Ray pressed his head against the door and let himself drift off.

Jackie was kind of like a surrogate mother for Ray. She was all sweet and caring and she always offered to listen if he needed someone to talk to, he never took her up on it, but the sentiment made him extra affectionate with her. Michael had a good mother so Jackie couldn’t take him under her wing quite the same, but he had a soft spot for her, too. When Ray and Michael had accidentally started a drug war with another gang in the city, it had been Jackie and Geoff who yanked them out of the flames and absorbed the damage for them. The Crew had always been one of the bigger players in the city, but Michael and Ray had always been too independent and prideful to hold their hand for long.

Of course, Geoff had worked hard to reel them in; Ray was still sure Geoff had pulled strings and cooked up some of their minor disasters. Michael and Ray’s biggest disagreement to date was about joining them; Ray was, despite outward appearances and reputation, the more prideful of the two. He and Michael split up with Michael hopping in with the other two and Ray keeping what they had had afloat by himself.

Michael didn’t lose contact though, never did, and Ray would get lengthy messages on his phone about some new guy and things they did and how they lived and some girl he met. Ray listened to them while he was trying to sleep because they helped ease the loneliness and stress. A little pathetic, and Ray knew Michael knew that that’s how Ray would use them, that’s why he still left them even without a response.

At some point, Ray started getting angry. He knew the easing of pressure from Los Chicos in the south was because the Crew had threatened them, he knew because he saw them go into their headquarters when he had been about to end the problem from a roof top several buildings over. That had made him doubt what he was doing and causing and what the Crew was doing and causing. They had increased their pressure tenfold and all the other gangs had backed off. It made Ray angry, made him prickle. His iron-grasp on the people who worked under him was being fucked with. Once he had pieced this together he stopped listening to the voicemails, they only made him boil more.

Ray was a couple months into the stay in Los Santos, he had a ring of people who he knew the names of and knew the stories of, he had money, not as much as when he was in Miami, but enough. Michael’s calls had picked up, Ray never answered them and he deleted all of the voicemails he got. When Michael grew desperate he tended to start getting sloppy, and Ray was secretly reveling in the Crews missteps. Gobbling up territory that the Crew grew distracted from because of various stumbling’s, it was a nice period of time that helped ease Ray’s spitefulness.

All good things must end, though, and that good thing ended harder than Ray had ever experienced. He remembers it like it was yesterday, he remembers the cockiness he felt under his skin; he remembers the weight of the gun in his hand.

(He remembers the burn of smoke in his throat, he remembers the ringing that drowned everything out, he remembers the heat of flames licking all across his body.)

He remembers the purpose of the whole thing. Drug dealer who was riding too high on his horse needed to be knocked down a peg or two. His whole posse had decided to come along; Ray had no problem with that. Sort of overkill, but he was in that phase of youth and power and drugs and money where he felt invincible.

(He remembers stepping into the apartment, he remembers the wall to his right exploding, and he remembers the gun shots from behind him that were aimed towards where he was laid the hell out.)

Loyalty was never to be taken for granted, once more money comes along people will do anything. His posse weren’t close to him, he was close to them, they knew nothing about him, he knew about them. This was a risky plan and it all depended on his death. Ray was better than that though, even with his lungs struggling to get the oxygen he needed, his throat blazing, his eyes watering, his gun someplace he couldn’t find and scratches and burns and wood all up his right side, he still rolled to cover.

Never underestimate the good in people, though. Kerry Shawcross had always been a quiet member of the posse. He knew the streets better than anyone Ray had met and he had contacts in places Ray didn’t. He wasn’t the biggest or most important person, and Ray would sometimes glance over him. His aim was sometimes off by a lot, and he was the slowest of them all, but he showed his true hand when he stepped into the room (Ray thought he was going to die, he couldn’t think of a way out) and then promptly shot one of the posse members in the face. He stumbled over to another piece of furniture for cover. Ray was lying on the floor behind a flipped desk a few feet away. He couldn’t see Kerry, but he could hear his gun.

Admittedly, Ray faded in and out after that. He woke up again when Kerry shook his (bad) shoulder and yelled at him. The flinch that shook through Ray moved his hand off the fucked up right shoulder, and Kerry bent down and tried again. Ray understood what he asked that time, asked him what to do. Kerry was young, too young for this. He didn’t know what to do after this; his contacts were not as widespread as Ray’s.

This was the moment Ray knew he couldn’t do it alone. In Miami he had left far before his inevitable fall from glory, but in Los Santos he had stayed for his peak and more. Now, he was a mangled mess of a person with blood all over and some kid had just saved his ass. Seizing whatever strength he had left, Ray pulled his phone out and handed it to Kerry; he held up a finger and told him to call number one. Michael was number one in his speed-dial because they were dependent assholes who, despite not speaking directly in weeks, were embarrassingly needy of each other. Ray slid back out, but later Kerry told him he had called the number and Michael had launched into a rant about Ray staying in contact when Kerry had interrupted and said they were in trouble, that they needed help, that Ray wasn’t looking too hot. Then, Michael had smoothed out into a completely business tone that took the directions to the place wordlessly and dragged the rest of the Crew with him to the building.

Ray had third degree burns from that, several scars, and he had worked splinters out for weeks. He remembers waking up in the hospital, Michael asleep in the chair next to the bed, Kerry in the corner and everyone else in a huddle near the window. Jackie had noticed him awake first, and she had edged over to the bed and stroked his good hand and murmured calming things. It was nice, made him think of his mom, and he had drifted back into sleep. Michael’s yelling woke him up after, he was angry that no one had woken him up when Ray had come to, Jackie was saying things to him but Michael was just getting redder and redder. (And louder and louder.)

Ray’s voice croaked uncomfortably and the words he had tried to force out didn’t even form, he just made a noise. That was enough though, Michael turned and marched over to the bed quickly, his arms wrapping right around Ray and Ray knew him well enough to know he was trying to hold back his emotions. His good hand came up and patted Michael’s back, smoothing his shirt out and trying to get him to chill.

“Don’t,” Michael’s voice was muffled against his hair, “don’t do that to me again,” and he choked a little. Ray nodded and turned his head so he could press his nose to Michael’s neck.

The nice things aren’t things that come to you in dreams though, and despite Ray’s struggle to remember his dreams and nightmares, he knows what that phantom sore throat is always from.

 

Michael’s hand on his neck woke Ray up; the hand had been gentle but was now pushing Ray’s head roughly down and between his knees. It was then Ray realized he had been having a nightmare. His nightmares were quiet, but he still made some noise and plenty of faces during them. Michael had crawled into the backseat next to him and was yanking his jacket off. The jacket was then over Ray’s head and Michael’s knees thumped against the floor of the car as he crowded in next to Ray’s knees. Lifting up the edge of the jacket, Michael stuck his head under it and Ray moved his head so Michael could rest his own on Ray’s knee. It was uncomfortable, but Michael was trying to give them privacy, which was sweet.

“You OK?” Michael whispered, one hand curling around Ray’s calf. His breath blew across Ray’s face; he needed some mints, but his own was probably the same. This was all very nice, Ray was breathing heavily still and he really needed some water, but he was a lot more calm than usual.

“Better,” Ray replied, moving so his hand was under his head. “How far away are we?” He knew that Michael was trying to get him to discuss feelings or something ridiculous, if he wasn’t he wouldn’t have gone through all the trouble to give them privacy. Ray did not want to talk about whatever Michael was trying to push him towards, so he changed the subject before Michael could lead them down that road.

Michael pulled back, taking the coat with him as he sprawled out on the floorboards. He kicked his feet out, hitting Ray a couple of times, and his face was covered by half of the coat. “Two hours,” he grumped, “my turn to sleep.” He was such a bitch.

Ray rolled his eyes and clambered over Michael and into the front seat. The road was fairly clear and Cruz was making good time, it seemed. Cruz opened his mouth to say something, but Ray held up a finger and then pointed down at Michael. It was the wait-for-him-to-be-asleep signal that meant Ray didn’t want to deal with him complaining about them keeping him up. They settled in for the next ten minutes until Ray nodded and stretched.

“What’s up, Cruz?” Ray asked, keeping his tone light, “Michael bother you?”

Cruz glanced over and shrugged. “He was OK, made some calls,” he answered, fingers light on the steering wheel. Ray frowned and slid his own phone out. More texts from Ryan, more texts from Kerry, which was it. Who would Michael have called?

Frowning more, Ray fingered his phone and turned so he could look down at his brother on the floor of the back of the car. “Who’d he call?”

“Uhh,” Cruz rolled his shoulders uncomfortably, “he said Lindsay and Gavin. Not that I was listening to his calls—!“

Ray blew out an angry breath, interrupting Cruz, and started locking and unlocking his phone over and over to try and occupy his thoughts. Michael had a tight policy about opposite coast business. No calls, no texts, no contact. No clues. No hints. If they had to stay in New Jersey for five months they would do so without letting the others know. It was a delicate balance to keep themselves from having to tell everyone they were descended from one of New Jersey’s biggest crime families. Ray and Michael were known to have grown up around the family of course, but neither of them had taken the family name. Ray had gotten his father’s original name, the one he had before he changed it to what it was, and Michael had his mother’s name.

They were prickly, was all. Gang royalty was prime attack potential. Minimize all targets on yourself and you’ll be alive longer. It had been troubling when Michael changed his voicemail the last time, now Ray was downright fuming. It was reckless and irresponsible. All traits associated with Michael, yes, but normally he wouldn’t have taken the risk. _Especially_ because they were rules he had set himself. The nasty side of Ray told him to make his own calls, it would certainly mean his phone would stop getting so many texts, but the smart side of him told him to abide by the rules. 

The nasty side was loud, he was a criminal for God’s sake, and he didn’t have to follow any rules. He opened his contact list, stared at it, looked back and forth between his phone and Michael, and then stomped angrily at the floor. “ _Fuck_ ,” he said, putting extra vigor in the next stomp, “stop at the next place we can stop.”

Cruz shot a nervous look towards Ray before glancing at the clock and shrugging. “Sure, boss.”

Ten minutes later, Cruz jogged into the convenience store to ‘use the bathroom,’ really Ray had told him to get lost for a little bit. Ray lined his fist up with Michael’s thigh, drew his arm back, and delivered the charley horse of the century. Michael was instantly awake; he gave a shout of protest and shot to sitting position so he could curl around his thigh. The jacket was still covering his head and the absurdity of it all could have made Ray laugh, but this was a serious issue that needed to be discussed.

Michael yanked the jacket off his head and hurled it angrily at Ray. “What the fuck, man?” Ray caught the jacket and set it in his lap. Before he started in he had to think. Had to figure out how to confront Michael without it spinning wildly out of control and fucking up what they were doing today. Michael made a grumbling noise at Ray’s silence, but Ray decided to toss caution to the wind. Oh well, if Michael got mad enough to storm out then whatever, Ray could continue on by himself.

“You,” Ray hesitated, rubbed his face, “called the Crew?” Michael’s eyes narrowed suspiciously and he glanced at the empty driver’s seat.

“So?” Michael spit, hauling himself up and onto the backseat. His defensive walls were coming up, Ray would be wise to back off and reassess before continuing. Working his jaw angrily, Ray tried to think of another way to approach it. Michael was incredibly defensive of his decisions. He could shoot himself in the leg and excuse it away with something about strategy. He was most defensive about three people. Ray, Lindsay, Gavin. Ray sighed, giving up on finesse. He deserved to be allowed to be petty sometimes; he was the younger sibling anyway.

“Why did you?” Ray said, turning his full attention to Michael in the backseat. “Am I allowed to make calls, now?”

“Don’t start this.” Michael snapped, his arms crossing over his chest.

“Don’t start _what_?”

Michael ran a hand through his hair angrily and slumped back into the seat. “Ray…”

That tone made Ray bristle. Made _his_ defenses rise. This wasn’t something he was being overbearing or pushy on, it was a rule Michael had put into place himself! If anyone should be lecturing about following the rules it should be Michael. Ray lowered his voice and pointed his finger at Michael. “You’re not the only one with close friends and a significant other, you know.” Michael surged forward so he was in Ray’s space, pointing back at Ray.

“You don’t get to compare what you and that fucking insane guy have to what Lindsay and I have.” Michael’s face was quickly turning red and his voice was getting louder. Ray could see Cruz peering out the convenience store window at the car.  Michael continued before Ray could stop him. “You’re barely even a couple! What do you even do? Cuddle? He might as well be your best friend!” (Michael should know he was stepping into bad territory here.) “Shouldn’t you be more suspicious? Think about the rest of us! He’s a wildcard at best, what do you know about him? You know what our contacts in Atlanta have been saying, you can’t ignore that.” (Ray was looking away now, fists clenching and jaw working hard.)

“I don’t trust him because I’m not blinded by my infatuation with the guy. If you fucking used your brain and actually considered the goddamn rest of us you’d be just as distrustful as I am. That’s why I called. I don’t trust your fucked up boyfriend.” Michael paused, Ray knew where he was about to go with this rant. Ray turned his head and narrowed his eyes, if Michael went where he thought he was about to go, well, Ray wouldn’t feel bad about breaking his nose. “Just like—“

“Don’t even say it—“ Ray snarled, his right arm stiffening to throw a punch.

“—in Compton with—“ Ray went to pop Michael in the mouth, but Michael caught his wrist and slammed it into the console. Ray gasped and tried to yank his hand out of his brother’s grip. “Adelia is gonna try and fucking rile you up like that, be more careful.” Prying Michael’s hand off, Ray slammed his back against the dash when he shoved away and leveled a hard glare at Michael.

“You’re a real asshole,” he said, “that was uncalled for. Do you feel better now, now that you’ve told me your opinions on my life choices?” Michael threw his arms up and snatched his jacket back. Lying out across the backseat, he re-covered his face and laced his fingers together on his stomach.

It was a nasty move for Michael to pull that kind of shit on him. Normally, he reserved the personal attacks for when he was trying to get information out of people; he almost never used it on Ray. Of course, their nearly 20 year relationship meant that it had happened before and that Ray had even pulled it on Michael once or twice, but this was lower than usual. The information that Adelia wouldn’t have was the worst part of it. Michael killed two birds with one stone, criticize Ray’s relationship _and_ prepare him for the shit they might get from Adelia.

Ray had always, always known Ryan left a sour taste in Michael’s mouth. It hadn’t been until Ray had, in Michael’s words, made goo-goo eyes and stopped noticing the obvious signs of a traitor that Michael started airing his hostility. All things considered, Ryan had been a normal dude for a while until Michael started going on about how he was too good. And then called up their friends in Atlanta (because they had contacts in goddamn China, why wouldn’t they have contacts in Atlanta,) who all said they had never known a gangbanger in the area who was good enough to be Ryan while also being called Ryan.

It wasn’t that Ray wasn’t also suspicious, he was, but he didn’t believe Ryan had malicious intent. Maybe he came from a family like Michael and he did. That wasn’t something to label him a traitor over. Plus, Ryan acted like a fucking lost puppy without Ray sometimes. A real traitor wouldn’t be like that, not so blatantly. Probably.

“I only called Lindsay and told her I didn’t know when we’d be back in town, I told Gavin the same thing.” Michael grumbled, turning over so he had his back to Ray. “Don’t be a bitch.” That only made Ray feel angrier, but he turned back the right way in his seat and slid his phone into his pocket. Michael won this round.

 

The next three hours passed fast, Ray napped in 20 minute increments and checked his phone whenever he wasn’t sleeping. Michael had started snoring in the backseat and Cruz was keeping his mouth shut. When they got into the neighborhood they had set Adelia up in, Ray straightened and undid his seatbelt.

“Just let me out,” Ray whispered, leaning so Cruz could hear him, “don’t turn off the car. Drive around for a while and don’t wake him up. I’ll call when you need to come get me.” Cruz bit his lip, but nodded. It was hard to go against one of the brothers, usually whoever was the direct threat was the one who won out if they had competing orders.

Stepping out of the car and shutting the door as quietly as possible, Ray watched it slide away. The amount of time he had to get this done with before Michael butted in was not known. Michael could wake up in the next five minutes or the next hour. It wasn’t that he didn’t think Michael could do a good job, he could, but it wasn’t his place to be part of this. It was Ray’s family, not Michael’s.

It was slightly spiteful, though. Ray was too petty to let Michael get away with what he had earlier. Both brothers were ridiculously immature at times, especially when they were in a disagreement, just like now. Ray was casually dressed, just a plain dark blue t-shirts with jeans. Shoving his hands in his pockets, he walked up the path to the house. He could probably jimmy the door open, but she was already in the house so there was no point in being so intrusive. It was late, the sky was darkening and it was a little chilly out.

Adelia’s house wasn’t huge. It was in a subdivision of rich people; all the houses were spaced very far away from each other and decently sized. The cream colored walls didn’t hint at what lay beyond the doors, though obviously someone wealthy. She kept all her nice cars in the garage and her backyard had a guest house.

Ray could scope out the place, sneak around and look in windows to get a feel for what he would be getting himself into, but he didn’t know what she had around. It would take the element of surprise away if he tripped some alarm or got caught peeking in a window. Which meant he only had one option, walk in the front door.

His knock was loud, almost more of him banging on the door. It wasn’t supposed to be that loud of a knock, Ray overcompensated. His face was arranged into a polite smile, his body posture business-like. A knife was strapped to his ankle, a pocket knife in his pocket, and a gun was at the small of his back. Packed light, but enough to keep him safe. Michael had been worried about her trying to kill them, which was the only reason Ray had something more than just the pocket knife on him. He could defend himself well enough, but Michael was persuasive and paranoid.

The door opened slowly, and Adelia peaked out.

The last time he had seen her was at the funeral. There the other kids had stayed together; Ray and Michael had been off to the side. Adelia had wavy brown hair, a lanky build, and pale skin. She was Michael’s full sibling, and a weird mix of the two parents. Ray smiled (all teeth) and pushed the door open a little more with his hand. “Hey, you.”

She frowned and let him push the door open. “Why are you here?” Adelia asked, taking a step back with Ray’s step forward. His eyes swept over her and over the room they were in. She was armed, the gun on her hip not even hidden. How brazen. The room had some stairs and some wall decorations. Not much else. He could see through to the living room though, it was nice.

“What, I can’t visit my baby sister?” He teased, stepping forward again to throw an arm across her shoulders. Adelia took another step back, a hand moving to her hip. He caught the movement and held up his hands. “Chill,” his tone slid back down to his business one. “I’m just here to tell you to stop causing trouble.”

She sneered and narrowed her eyes. “Or you’ll do what?” She was challenging him. “You can’t touch me, you’re alone, and I’m sure that you don’t want to start trouble in the family. You don’t have any power here.” Ray wanted to roll his eyes, this ego play was amateur. She was letting herself monologue and not getting straight to the point. The series of mistakes she made then, Ray exploited.

1.)      She let him slip his hand into his pocket.

2.)      She took her right hand off her gun to gesture.

3.)      She was looking at the door and not him

In mere seconds Ray had a hand wrapped around her wrist, yanking her forward towards him and using his foot to slide her feet out from under her. His knees banged onto the floor to bracket her hips and he had his pocket knife out and open, not yet pressed to her neck but hovering. His knees ached from busting them on the floor, but all the better to make a point. “Don’t make threats you can’t go through on,” he hissed, his knees pressed hard to her hips to keep the gun away and her dominant hand pressed to the floor by her head. Adelia’s left hand was wrapped around his wrist, but he was stronger than her.

The door was still hanging open, and Ray didn’t spare a glance behind him when he heard someone step through. Adelia turned her head to look, whoever it was caused her lips to curl into a smile. Ray only leaned more of his weight into the hand holding her wrist to the floor.

“I can give you much more than this waste,” Ray goaded, letting the blade edge closer to her skin. Adelia had her head back, trying to get away from the knife. This was a dangerous play, he didn’t know who was behind him and he didn’t know what they were there for. Probably someone who worked with Adelia, which wasn’t unbeatable, but two vs one was a situation he would like to avoid. Especially without Michael around to be the muscle. Ray could fight fine, probably even better than fine, but he was by no means a world class fighter.

Of course, it was too much to ask for an easy day. He heard the _snick_ of the knife, which was his warning, before rolling off Adelia the opposite direction and pivoting on his knee to see who was coming at him. The man was heavyset and held his knife awkwardly. He was clearly some sort of bodyguard, he had stepped past Adelia so she was behind him, but he wasn’t exactly skilled at it. He was attempting the Filipino Grip, which was a good tactic to chase off people who didn’t know what they were doing, except Ray wasn’t like that. The bodyguard’s arm was too far forward, his knife wasn’t fitted to his hand, it was too big of a handle, and he wasn’t even in the correct stance. Well, he was trying for the correct stance, but it wasn’t a good one.

“You don’t want to do this, man,” Ray warned. He was still on one knee across the room; his knife gripped the traditional way. A knife fight wasn’t something he was feeling. Especially with someone who wasn’t good at it. No one wins in a knife fight, as they say. Adelia had stood back up and was rubbing at her wrist. He had to watch her too, she still had her gun.

Ray had been on his own for Miami. Michael complained too much and Ray had been antsy for some independence. They were still in contact, of course they had been, but Ray was mainly flying solo. Miami had been markedly more cut-throat than the other cities he had been in. Everyone was rich, everyone was connected, everyone was riding high. It had been jarringly hard to get through all of that, had almost begged Michael to come help, but he had prevailed. Sitting on top of Miami like some kind of wicked king was nice, but he felt bored. The time he had spent in the city had, up to that point, been fighting and politicking.

In fact, that’s where all of his skills came from. Michael had taught him how to throw a good punch and handle a gun, but Miami taught him how to hurt people with that fist and how to shoot without question. His knife skills came from Miami, his money skills came from Miami, his life was changed by Miami.

Impossible odds hadn’t stopped him then, he had escaped multiple building fires and multiple stab wounds and a few bad trips. What were some girl and her guard dog to him?

“You’re not in the position to say that,” the guard rumbled. He took a step forward, Ray’s hands shifted. Right hand with the knife further forward (draw the attention), his left hand edging towards his lower back (pull the equalizer). Adelia placed a hand on the guy’s shoulder, and then stepped around him. He drew back, letting his knife hand lower. She had finally pulled her gun, and was holding it towards Ray.

“Where’s your other half?” She asked, her eyes on Ray’s face (not his knife or the hand still moving to his gun). Irrationally, Ray nearly panicked at the thought of Adelia knowing about Ryan, blanching just enough for her eyebrows to rise questioningly. He covered it quickly though, face melting back into a neutral expression. _Don’t be a bitch_ , Michael’s voice echoed dully in his head, and he frowned.

“Around,” Ray said, gesturing with the knife. Adelia laughed a little, and held her hand out, fingers wiggling.

“Phone, please,” she grinned, and Ray rolled his eyes.

“Not on me,” Ray replied back blandly. Which wasn’t true, his phone was in his pocket, but who was she to try and take it from him?

“You going to make us search you?” The guy huffed from behind Adelia, who tilted her head and gave Ray a pointed look.

He rolled his eyes and shoulders, left hand nearly behind his back. He could pull the gun from here. “Try me,” and his grin was all teeth again and the guard pushed past Adelia to get to Ray. Adelia shouted a warning before Ray was lunging up and forwards.

These kind of things always felt slow to him, with every second screeching by as he went through the motions of violence.

His left hand yanked the gun out while he was surging towards the guy and he saw Adelia raise her own gun. Bodyguard tried to slide back into the right stance and tried to deflect Ray, but only fucked himself over. The butt of Ray’s knife’s slammed into guard’s hand, drawing a shout and knocking his weapon loose. This close up to the much larger man, Ray had to control the fight. Once he was reacting he wouldn’t be able to control the outcome as well. Adelia gave another warning shout that drew both of the men’s attention to her, she was using both hands to aim the gun and had it pointed right at Ray.

Her shot was fucked up though, squealing tires from outside startled her into jerking the gun a little. The bullet grazed Ray’s cheek and had him stumbling backwards away from the guard. The guard moved to grab Ray, but he was still a crappy fighter. What was the point of fighting someone when you knew they were hopeless? Ray heard someone pounding up the walkway to the house. Time to end this fast.

Ray kicked the guard’s knee to the side and sunk his blade into his neck when he bent forward in response. The gurgles he made turned Ray’s stomach, except there was no time to jerk away. Raising his gun, Ray shot out Adelia’s knee (his favorite place to attack, really) and she crumpled over. Bodyguard was leaning onto Ray’s knife and hand, which was fucking disgusting and nasty in every way possible, but Ray just dragged his dead weight over to where Adelia was lying. She raised her gun; he kicked it straight out of her hand. Letting the guard slide off the knife, he crashed to the floor next to her. Ray dropped to straddle her again, his fingers pressing to her cheek and moving her head to look at the mess next to them.

“Don’t push me,” he whispered. She had her eyes closed and was trying to pull his hand off of her cheek. Michael finally charged his way into the room, Cruz hot on his tail. They gaped at the scene and at Ray and at the house. Adelia finally nodded frantically and Ray stood. He pushed his gun back into his jeans and wiped his bloodied hand onto his thigh. Stepping back over to the door where Michael and Cruz were, Ray only patted Michael’s shoulder and slid by them. He was going to get a verbal shit-storm for this stunt, he could see it in Michael’s eyes, but he just wanted to get out of New York.

 

Michael at least waited until they were holed up in a hotel in New Jersey to rant. Ray had gotten in and taken a shower to get all the gunk off of him for sure. When he had come out Michael was curled up on the second bed, facing away from him. Ray had crawled into his own bed, too far gone to care about peeling off the nasty sheets to check them, and was about to let himself drift off when Michael was suddenly up and in his space.

A fist hit his stomach, that was what yanked him out of his half asleep state, and then he blocked the next hit. Catching Michael’s next punch, he rolled them so Ray was lying on top of Michael. He went limp then, and Ray had purposely landed them so he could put his head on Michael’s chest and look at the wall and not at Michael’s sure to be enraged face.

“I cannot fuckin’ believe you would do that,” Michael began, “are you looking to die? What kind of fucked up thing went through that shitty skull of yours that told you it was OK to go in alone? We didn’t know anything about what she was planning! Do you know what I thought when I heard the first gunshot? _I thought you were dead!_ We’re a team, fucking act like it! Even if I pissed you off, even if I wounded your pride, you don’t need to prove anything to me. I know what you can do, don’t fucking sacrifice your goddamn safety to push your point. If both of us had gone in you wouldn’t have had to kill anyone.

“I know you’re mad at me for shit-talking your boyfriend to your face. I know that you were trying to make a point by going in alone. You didn’t do anything I didn’t already know you could fucking do. I’ll let this dick size competition slide this time, but don’t you ever fucking think to do it again. If I wake up to you going into potentially dangerous situations alone again, I’m going in and kicking your ass and dragging you home to ground you for 50 months.” He ended quieter than he started. The words meant a lot, but they also bristled his feathers again.

Michael was again, again, again refusing to take the real blame. He acknowledged what had caused the outburst and then never admitted his fault for saying it. Then, he turned the whole situation into being Ray’s responsibility. His immaturity was rearing its ugly head and he had to clench his jaw to keep himself from pouting. Blowing out a sigh, Ray decided to just bottle this fight for another day.

“Fine.” Ray said eventually, and Michael rolled them so they were on their sides and cuddling. Ray accepted the closeness, burying his face into Michael’s chest and wrapping his fists into his shirt. Michael started snoring in a ridiculously short amount of time, but Ray was too wired from their talk. Or his listen, Michael’s rant. Whatever.

Occasionally, Ray and Michael would do something and while it was normal for them, he wasn’t sure other siblings did it. They were shockingly close and secure in each other’s presence. Little things they did, like touching foreheads, neck touching, times like this where they laid together, those things were things people sometimes looked at them weird for. It wasn’t…it was just a platonic thing for them. They had spent their entire schooling career depending on each other and protecting the other’s back.

That kind of formative lifestyle, especially one with copious violence, calls for closeness. And that’s what they had. They knew each other inside and out, they were scarily dependent on each other, they could have a whole conversation just through the eyes, they could flawlessly work together and take out a whole group of men.

 

 Getting back into Los Santos was shitty. His cheek was scabbed over, sure to scar, and he had spent the whole flight planning out the heist he was supposed to plan out with Jackie and Geoff. They were in coach seats, because they had gotten the first flight out and these were the only seats open. They weren’t even next to each other; Michael was all the way across the plane. The person on the scabbed cheek side kept looking at it curiously. He hadn’t been able to write any of his plan down, the person on his right talked to the people across the aisle from them for the whole ride. Person on the left fell asleep about halfway through, drooling onto the window. Michael probably had fallen asleep; otherwise Ray was sure he would have heard his voice rise at least once.

Ray texted Ryan first, telling him Michael was dropping him off at the apartment so he could sleep. Then he called Jackie while in the car on the way to his apartment. It rang a couple of times, and then Jackie grumped a ‘ _hey’_ into the phone.

“Hi, Jackie, I’m in town again. I have my heist planned out and we can go over it in a few hours, if that’s OK.” Ray babbled, and Jackie huffed loudly through the phone.

“We are not happy with you two right now. When you show up we’re gonna have to give both of you a lecture,” she paused, “and yes, we do want to go over the plan.”

Ray grinned. “Love you, too.” Jackie made another huffing noise and hung up. Ray shook his head and slid a glance over to Michael. “They’re mad.” Michael rolled his eyes in reply.

A few minutes later Ray waved Michael off, and trudged up the stairs to his apartment. He should have used the elevator, but he was trying to put off the inevitable. Ryan had been pissed in all of his texts when they were still on the other coast. It was early morning right now, and Ray didn’t even know if his text would have woken Ryan up. The only thing he was grasping onto was the fact that if Ryan tried to guilt trip him he could turn it around on him.

The door was unlocked when he got there, although when he stepped in and kicked the door shut behind him he didn’t see anyone. Ryan had clearly been here though, probably more than he had been at his own apartment, because the apartment was cleaner than he had left it. For everything that Ryan was, he kept his living spaces very clean. All his shoes were polished, all his clothes were ironed, all of his dishes were washed. Not that Ray was complaining, he appreciated the amount of work Ryan did to keep himself tidy.

Dropping his bag onto the floor next to the door with a thump, Ray kicked off his shoes and started the search. He was in new clothes that Ryan would immediately know as new, probably make him more suspicious, and he was very well washed. Three showers had happened after New York, mainly to erase bad thoughts and clear his head, but it made his skin dry.

To be honest, Ray was too tired to bother with too much. He hadn’t slept at all that night and hadn’t slept on the plane. Pushing open the bedroom door, Ray could see Ryan’s form buried under the blankets. California was too hot for Ray to curl under his blankets like that, but Ryan was from the South, so he probably was used to worse.

Ryan didn’t move to look at Ray, so he was either asleep or ignoring him. His phone was on the nightstand on his side, the notification flash wasn’t flashing. He must have woken up with the text and unlocked the door and came back in here. Charming. Ray didn’t bother changing, just slid onto the bed and tossed his glasses onto the nightstand on his side. Ryan continued to make no move towards Ray, even after Ray had stilled. This was petty.

Ray doesn’t know when he fell asleep, but he woke up to his phone buzzing on the nightstand. The bed was empty and the sun was going down. He hadn’t meant to sleep all day and he was going to pay for fucking up his sleep schedule so much later. Answering the call and rolling over to face the empty side of the bed, Ray rubbed his face and mumbled into the phone. He hadn’t even bothered to look at who was calling.

“Dude, get up,” Michael said loudly into the phone, Ray flinched a little and pulled the phone further away from his ear.

“Whh--??” Was all Michael got out of Ray. He was way too out of it for this right now. His sleep schedule was fucked to hell and he was only like, eight hours into a 20 hour sleep. Michael’s huff of annoyance knocked some of the daze from Ray’s mind.

“I’m coming to get you,” Michael said, and he could hear him walking (stomping) through the phone. “You better be dressed when I get there.”

Michael hung up then, and Ray stared at the wall for a few minutes. The apartment was silent and Ryan’s side of the bed was made. His belly rolled in a confusing mix of emotions. Ryan was a pretty cool dude. Hot, mostly mature, capable, and he accepted everything Ray was. He was in no way close to being able to talk to Ryan about sex or anything in that vein but, he could see himself _sometime_ talking about it. That was better than all of his past relationships. Most had never gotten far enough for any of that, this relationship had jumped straight into the thick of it though, so maybe it was different.

Michael showed up later, Ray sitting on the couch and debating whether he should get coffee or not. He shot a smile when Michael busted in and stood to follow him out. A hand on his chest stopped him from edging past, and Michael rubbed his face with his other hand.

“They’ve calmed down a lot, no thanks to you.” He huffed, eyes narrowing at Ray. Ray only rolled his eyes and clapped Michael’s shoulder.

“Good on you for running damage control,” he smiled and shook the other a little. Michael only sighed and rolled his shoulders to dislodge the hand. He moved enough to let Ray slide by and then followed him out. Ray had to write out the heist on the ride to the condo, it’d be easier to go over it.

 

Two months later, Ray gave soft instructions as he drove the limo to position. His heist was complicated. Well—it wasn’t supposed to be. But with their luck it would be. Gavin had already trashed his air vehicle, he hadn’t even really needed it to begin with, but he had crashed hard onto the pavement a few cars ahead of the truck with his shoot stopping traffic. Michael’s laughter was tinged with some anger and Geoff made Gavin get in with him, but they were all waiting for Ray’s mark. Ryan and Michael had slid into Jackie’s Cargobob without incident and everyone seemed confident in their ability to get through this. They all knew what happened the last time they tried to pick up a truck like this though; it made everyone a little more antsy than usual.

“Ray, call it.” Geoff says, the wind whistling through the comm and making his words sound distant. They had all been clamoring over each other a few seconds ago; Geoff’s words were enough to silence the others. Ray had finished giving last minute details and was sat in the limo with the silent train tracks behind him. It was weird being so far off from the others, but his plan depended on it. After the others pulled their weight he was doing most of the heavy lifting anyway.

The last two months had been eventful. Ray and Ryan were stony silent and cold, Ryan hadn’t even bothered to stay in Ray’s apartment. If he did, he slept on the couch. That stung and Ray knew a little communication would help them, but he was still a fucking barely 24 year old shit-baby with way too much blood on his hands for his level of immaturity. Geoff and Jackie had picked up on Ray’s reactionary melancholy way too fast, it was why they weren’t taking control of all of this and delivering hell for what he and Michael pulled. Michael had similarly picked up on it, and had racketed up the pressure on Ryan. Not that Michael wanted Ray to know that, though, he was trying to hide it. Unfortunately, Gavin was easy to get drunk and even easier to pry information out of.

Allegedly, the two of them had nearly gotten in physical confrontations behind everyone’s back. Gavin had slurred his way through that explanation, how he knew (Michael’s mouth was too big and told Gavin and Lindsay way too much), why he was hiding it (conflict was bad for the Crew), and then he openly wondered why they clashed so much. Ray had just raised his eyebrows from behind his bong and echoed his wonderment.

Not that he didn’t know why, of course, but it was smooth and easy to keep the lie going.

It was only the last few weeks leading up to the heist that Ryan became affectionate again. A little like whiplash to Ray, one day when he pulled in to drop Ray off at his apartment he went ahead and parked and got out, too. Ray had felt awkward and confused, leading to the elevator and shifting his weight while Ryan leaned casually next to him. Once in the apartment Ryan had wasted no time in absolutely devouring Ray, his back hit the door and Ryan’s hands felt like fire on his cheeks and they were pressed too closely together for Ray to feel entirely comfortable. He was just as eagerly clutching at Ryan’s elbows though, because in the end the other man made Ray’s rational side wave a white flag and roll over for the irrational, desperate for something more side.

The rest of the evening was just light conversation that tiptoed around any real communication and they ended the night with Ryan excusing himself out the door. Ray had almost called Michael then, Michael had always been the person Ray called for relationship advice. Probably because Michael was the only person Ray had steadily been able to depend on, only now he didn’t feel it was appropriate. Maybe this was a step, a step towards Ryan opening up. Never say Ray Narvaez Junior couldn’t be an optimist, he spent the rest of the weeks to the heist gently prodding Ryan into talking.

They did, Ryan had admitted that he wished Ray was more open. Ray repeated the sentiment and Ryan looked offended, but Ray had hardened his gaze and didn’t back down.

“I _am_ open,” Ryan disagreed with a little heat in his tone. Ray wasn’t sure if he was ready for this argument, but he would pursue it anyway.

“Sure,” Ray replied just as hotly, “maybe about your name. How’d you get so good? What was life like back in Atlanta? Did you have friends?” Ray could have kept going, but Ryan spoke over his rambling.

“I could ask you the same questions,” Ryan said, standing in the kitchen on the opposite side of the island counter, “how come you were sucked into the gang so young? How can you and Michael not share last names despite having the same father? How come you have a whole different phone for something that you don’t even try to lie well to cover?”

Ray waved his arms in the air in frustration, his voice rising. “ _Maybe_ a little honesty from you would make me open up!” Ryan’s face was red and he rubbed at his eyes in similar frustration. “Sometimes I feel like I’m dating some cardboard cut-out, I’m supposed to _be_ something to you, I shouldn’t be as in the dark as everyone else!”

The rest of the argument was cut off by Michael’s key clicking the lock open and the door swinging open. Michael and Ray were supposed to be going to some restaurant because Michael thought Ray needed someone to treat him to something nice. Ray still hadn’t tied his tie and his shoes were sitting on the counter. Michael was made up perfectly, and he stepped through the door with his most wolf-like of grins. Ryan had waited long enough for Michael to step through so he could grab his keys and leave. That hurt, but it was more than likely they would be back to making out the next day.

“Trouble in paradise?” Michael had grinned, and Ray groaned and pushed him out the door.

The day of the heist Ryan had waited until everyone had split their separate ways and the hand that cupped Ray’s neck was affectionate. He didn’t go any further, dropping his hand and stepping into a car to go get everything prepared. Ray had watched him go like some lovesick puppy and went to secure his part of the heist with a deep sense of disgruntlement

Now, Ray rubbed his temples and called the start of the heist. “Alright, on your mark, get set, heist!”

If a heist could possibly go wrong one second in, this one did.

Michael’s little laugh was interrupted by Gavin and Geoff’s struggle. Michael’s laugh stopped as their yelling increased.

“We can’t get in!” “It’s locked!” “The guy--!”

Michael’s bark of orders was filling in where Ray couldn’t. He was too far away to know what was happening.

“Shoot the driver!” He shouted, Ryan’s voice breaking in after.

“Just pick it up!” Ryan was saying.

“Lower the chopper, I’ll get in.” Michael said, and Geoff and Gavin’s voices both drowned out whatever Jackie and Ryan were about to say.

Ray raised his voice to be heard. “Just switch!”

Geoff and Gavin were still saying thing, but Michael ended it. “Just get in your car and follow me.”

The next few minutes were more chaos. Ray couldn’t believe it. His heist was crumbling already. Michael, Ray, and Ryan were all yelling about just picking up the truck, while Geoff and Gavin were yelling at each other. It was ridiculous.

Finally, the chopper must have picked them up, Ray could barely tell but Michael had slid back into his cocky laugh. Everyone was talking at once, Ryan saying stuff and Jackie saying things and so on. Seconds later, a loud grunt and a sickening _crunch_ over the comm was pierced through by Michael’s yelling.

“Oh my God!” He shouted, and everyone else began shouting also. Michael’s shout dissolved into a scream, with Gavin babbling and Geoff and Jackie shouting over him.

Ray could only pick out some of what Gavin was saying, he heard the words Ryan and down, which were enough to sick his stomach and make his head spin. Oh no. Oh no. Michael’s screaming finally stopped, and he started shouting again.

“I flipped it, a full 360!” Michael voice cracked as he said it, and Ray had no idea how he was still in the damn thing if the chopper had dropped it and made it roll.

And—Fuck. Ray was the only person still there who could salvage this. He just had to be in a fucking limo, didn’t he? Throwing it into gear, he hit the gas and headed towards their location. “Alright, fuck the train,” Ray said, “I’m driving right toward you.”

“We got this.” (That was Geoff)

“I need an evac.” (That was Michael)

“We need you.” (That was Jackie)

 

If there was any possible way for this to get worse, it was going to happen. Ray’s fucking pedal meeting floor did little to help when Gavin and Geoff decided to get into one of their backup cargobobs and then promptly ended with both of their comms shorting out as they went into the water. Jackie—Ray doesn’t even know what happened to her. She must have pulled up and away, because Michael never saw her crash. He had seen Geoff and Gavin topple over the edge of the bridge with the aircraft and fall into the water, which was how Ray knew about it.

Ray probably should have seen this coming, whenever they tried something like this they always fucked it up somehow. No plan could survive without a large amount of bullshitting on the spot. The LSPD weren’t good for much, but they knew how to load vehicles with bullets. No one usually came out of it alive. At some point Ray had yanked out the serious mask he rarely used. Usually, things never warranted his full skillset. This, however, did. Later, he could search desperately for Ryan’s sure to be broken body. Later, he said over and over. First, he had to get Michael out.

Michael was babbling over the comm, Ray couldn’t even focus on it through his pounding headache and his frustration. He got Michael’s location over and over (the fucking idiot drove to the military base, Ray had yelled his annoyance and anger for a solid minute straight). And, to top off this fucking shitshow Ray was about to raise almighty hell in his goddamn limo.

When he got to the military base, Ray thought he was going to maybe explode. The entire LSPD had to be here. Plus, the entire military base was right fuckin’ there. Ray knew what he had to do. Michael would bitch at him for a solid month probably, but Michael was in the armored truck. He’d be fine. Probably. A lot of this depended on a lot of probablys, but Ray was fucked and Michael was even more fucked. Not to mention the rest of the Crew. Right now was save Michael’s ass and get the hell out of dodge time, and his loyalty to his brother ran deeper than anything.

So, Ray stepped out of the limo several feet away. He set his feet and pulled out his rocket launcher. There was nothing discreet about this. At least three cops had started shouting at him. But he only steadied himself and told Michael to cover himself up and get ready to grab the money and run. A little more distance would have done Ray wonders, actually, he realized once he had shot the rocket. It sure cleared the way, but damn he had to duck and cover behind the door of the limo and even then he only barely got through without getting burned.

“Michael?” He asked loudly, switching the empty rocket launcher for an AK. The armored truck was in the middle of the fray, but it was an armored truck—right? The back door of the truck was kicked open, and Michael jumped out the back. He looked pissed off, but he was still alive! Sliding into the limo Ray crawled over so he could open the passenger door and waited for Michael to hop in. Once he had, he reversed and sped out of there. Michael was making huffing noises like a bull, but he had bags of money at his feet and didn’t seem to be gravely injured.

Ray was counting that as a win.

But, now that he had Michael out and safe. His mind rolled over into dealing with what was going on with the others.

“We have to switch vehicles and try and find everyone,” Ray said, already scanning the streets for cars that they could move to. Michael yanked his phone out and texted the group chat they had for heists like this. Ray knew it was the group chat because his phone vibrated in his pocket and Michael stared at his phone until someone replied.

“Jackie is alright, she’s at home.” He said slowly as Ray parked the limo and unlocked the car he left in the bushes. When Michael finally moved over to Ray’s truck, he kept talking. “Gavin and Geoff are fine. Not home yet, but close.”

Ray tapped his fingers on the steering wheel. “We have to find Ryan.” He swallowed nervously as he turned the car around. “Where were you when he…” Ray had to trail off, clenching his jaw and slowing his breathing.

Michael’s hand felt searing hot on Ray’s shoulder. He knew what was coming. “Ray…”

“Don’t!” He nearly shouted, shaking his brother’s hand off his shoulder and tightening his fists on the wheel. “Don’t you dare.”

Michael’s phone dinged again and Ray’s vibrated against his thigh. Michael’s jaw worked in Ray’s periphery, and he knew exactly what that meant. “Ray, we can’t—“

Ray slammed on the breaks of the truck and pulled to the side of the road. Michael only barely saved his face from the dashboard with his forearms. Ray stared hard at the horn. “Get out.”

“What?”

“I said,” Ray gritted out, “ _get the fuck out_.” Michael punched the dashboard then, and slid out of the car after. He left the money though, and before the door shut he pointed a finger at Ray.

“All you’re gonna fuckin’ see is a body. I hope you know what you’re fucking doing.”

 

Cops were swarming the area. Ray had had a mask on the whole time, and he had switched to just a plain t-shirt. It still wasn’t totally inconspicuous, he had the white slacks on, but it was a start. He only knew where Ryan must have landed by how many people were looking around with flashlights. Whatever hope Ray had in his heart flickered and he had to steady himself. Ryan hadn’t texted in. That meant he had moved far enough away to hide but was too fucked up for much else. This was going to be hard.

Going along the road further, Ray pulled over far away from the LSPD search parties and moved to the grass. Where would Ray crawl to that felt far enough away from where he had crash landed to be safe from prying eyes but was also not an impossible distance.

Ray ended up just walking weird and waving has hands around in the bushes while whispering, ‘ _Ryan?_ ’. He heard a weak moan somewhere to his left, which was even further down from the road than he imagined Ryan would be. Sinking into a crouch and shuffling towards the sound. The sight he found turned his stomach. Ryan was a fucking mess. He was bleeding from several wounds and his entire fucking left arm and shoulder looked so terrible Ray almost couldn’t look at it. That’s what he must have landed on.

It took another twenty minutes to get Ryan up and to the truck, and the whole ride towards the doctor Ray had to be going somewhere around 100 miles per hour. That might have been an exaggeration, but he was not wasting time.

 

The fallout from the heist was bad. Michael fumed for several weeks. Jackie and Geoff had just hugged Ray like some kind of overprotective parents and murmured stuff about how everything was fine and he shouldn’t feel guilty. –Which he didn’t! His heist could have gone worse, and this was miles away from the worst kind of injuries they’ve ever gotten. Ryan took months to recover, and Ray had ‘let him crash at his place’ because it was ‘better.’ Really, Ryan had been practically living with Ray anyway. Michael only showed up every now and again, mainly to take potshots at Ryan and pout at Ray. It was tense.

For Ryan’s recovery period, Ray didn’t go back to the condo. He spent most of his days catering to whatever Ryan’s needs were. Michael called him a bitch at least 30 times, and Gavin would make lewd jokes about them banging. Whatever, Ray just brushed it off. He didn’t feel guilty, he refused to feel guilty about something he couldn’t control again, but he did feel overprotective.

Maybe, if Ray had been more vigilant and less occupied, he would have seen what happened next. Would have realized what was really happening whenever Michael made a snide comment. It was all building up to the same end, but Ray didn’t even see it coming.


	6. hiatus notice

Hey, everyone! I'd like to apologize to all of the readers or people who have this bookmarked, after some unforeseen and devastating issues with my family my computer is not in my possession anymore. I have no idea when it will be again, so any release I might have been close to has now been pushed back indefinitely. I am NOT abandoning this, but all my files and all my progress has been pretty much lost until future notice. I had been struggling slightly with the chapter (8 restarts and 2 rewrites) but I had been making progress, and in the face of losing not only my progress on my longest chapter yet, I also lost the already finished final chapter. Maybe I will feel inspired enough to continue this soon before I get my computer back, but it's been an extremely difficult time for me. I'd like to just ask for patience and respect. I will get this thing finished before 2015 is over, at least!!

**Author's Note:**

> this is a pretty stylized au and i kind of take my own spin and run w/it, especially since its hard to actually write a reason for everyone to not be part of the heists after in the heist they died rip... any and all tips and comments welcomed and appreciated :*


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